All of Heaven Away
by victoria p
Summary: A look at the Logan/Rogue/Jean/Scott quadrangle from a number of angles... the whole series - so far - is here.
1. No One Is to Blame

Title: No One Is to Blame  
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net]  
Summary: Rogue gets an eyeful. L/J/R/(S)  
Rating: R - language  
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters are owned by Marvel and/or Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights. Howard Jones owns the song "No One Is to Blame."  
Archive: If you want, just let me know.  
Feedback: Please feed the monkey.  
Notes: Life is sucking right now, and I'm having Jean issues, so this is a little sad. I don't normally do angst, so it may be kind of crappy. "No One Is to Blame" is a great song. It just cries out for L/R. Thanks to Dot, Jen, Meg and Pete.  
  
  
indicates thoughts  
  
No One Is to Blame  
  
No one was supposed to know. No one was supposed to get hurt.   
  
He should have known better, should have remembered that nothing in the short part of his life that he could recall had come easy, and very little had gone right.  
  
It was too good to be true, the night Jean showed up in his room and told him that she and Scott were "on a break." Some part of him knew it, and didn't question.  
  
He'd fantasized about having this woman in his bed for the past four years. Now Scott was in Alaska, alone, reacquainting himself with the family he'd thought was dead, while Logan was fucking Jean every night.  
  
It should have been heaven, but it quickly turned into hell.  
  
Nobody talked about it. No one was supposed to know, though people with rooms on the same floor couldn't help but overhear Jean's moans and Logan's growls as they went at it all day and all night. So nobody warned Rogue.  
  
She was supposed to be down in Florida on Spring Break with Jubilee. He never expected to see her walk into the weight room while he and Jean were having sex.   
  
His senses alert even during sex, he'd caught the vague but familiar scent and looked up to see her staring in shock, and then running from the room. He didn't think much of it at the moment, with Jean moaning his name and convulsing around him, but the look in Marie's eyes was the same as it had been the night he'd stuck his claws through her chest. An image that was burned into his brain, his nightmares.  
  
Two days later she was back at college and he could avoid thinking about it, as he avoided thinking about anything that might have a negative impact on his little fantasy world.  
  
He'd made Jean promise not to look into his head without his explicit permission, so she didn't realize anything was wrong.  
  
And then it was summer.  
  
Scott called to say he was staying with his father a while longer. He was reluctant to return to the place that had been his home for so many years, to see the woman he'd thought would be his wife go to another man's room every night. No one had to tell him what would happen once he was gone. He knew Jean didn't love Logan, and he hoped to stay away long enough for her to work him out of her system, long enough to remember how much he (Scott) loved her and long enough to learn how to forgive her.  
  
But the kids -- Rogue, Jubilee, all the ones who had no family, or no family who wanted to know them -- came home.  
  
And Logan suddenly realized that he'd missed her. Not so much while she was gone, but now that she was around, he missed their walks and their training sessions. She trained with Hank now, or Storm. She avoided him and he let her. He didn't owe her any explanation, he told himself, he was a grown man, she was a kid, and he could fuck whoever he liked.  
  
But her eyes, those velvety chocolate eyes that were too old for her fine-boned face, haunted him.  
  
He mentioned it to Jean. "Does Marie look okay to you?" he asked one morning over breakfast. "She's never around anymore."  
  
Ororo sniffed and rose from the table. Logan knew she disapproved of his relationship with Jean, and for the life of him he couldn't figure it out. It wasn't jealousy. God knows, he'd hit on her often enough in the years before Jean made herself available, and been turned down at every pass.  
  
Jean shrugged. "She's hurt that you and I are together, Logan. She's had a crush on you for a long time."  
  
Logan raised an eyebrow. "That ended years ago, Jeannie. Believe me, I'd know." She sighed, but didn't look convinced.  
  
Later that day, he finally cornered Marie in the stables. She had just come back from a ride and he noticed how attractive she looked with her hair windblown and her skin flushed. He was amazed at how the jodhpurs clung to her long legs and slim hips, and the t-shirt she wore outlined high, full breasts. His little girl had grown up into a damn fine looking woman, he thought, feeling an unexpected stirring in his groin.  
  
"Hey," he said.  
  
"Hey," she replied, not looking up. She attempted to walk past him.  
  
He put a hand on her shoulder. "Can we talk?"  
  
"I'd rather not."   
  
He slid his hand down her covered arm and into hers. "Please?"  
  
"You actually taking time out of your busy sex life to remember I exist?" she snapped.   
  
He blinked. "No need to be hostile, kid. You're the one who's been avoiding me."  
  
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want to interrupt you while you're -- otherwise engaged. Which seems to be all the time." There was anger in her tone as she tried to pull her hand away. He wouldn't let her go.  
  
"Kid." She frowned and he shook his head. "Marie, listen to me. You're my family. You're the only one I got--"  
  
"Seems to me you got Jean all the time and in every way," she muttered.   
  
"Marie," he said, and there was a new note in his voice, one neither of them had ever heard before. He was pleading with her. She stopped moving and met his eyes for the first time.  
  
"I don't want to lose you," he said.  
  
"I was never yours to lose," she said, knowing it was a lie, and walked out.  
  
***  
  
Jean came to see her the next morning.  
  
"Logan was just trying to make things right with you."  
  
Rogue looked at her, eyes narrowed. "If he hadn't screwed up in the first place, he wouldn't have to."  
  
"What's the screw up, Rogue? That he ignored you or that he and I are together now? I realize that you're hurt, but you can't take it out on everyone else. It's not our fault. It's not anyone's fault."  
  
"Of course it's not," Rogue spat. "You're so perfect -- fucking perfect Jean Grey and your fucking perfect little life. You had Logan in your bed before Scott's spot was even cool. You ever think how you might have hurt him? How you're gonna hurt Logan when you realize you don't love him and he's not what you want? You ever think about that, Jeannie?" Her voice twisted the nickname scornfully.  
  
"I know," the redhead said. "I know people -- you, Scott -- are hurting. I just --"  
  
"Then act like you know. Leave me alone. You wanted Scott and you got him. You wanted Logan and now you've got him. Don't flaunt it in the face of people who'll never have anyone." Jean opened her mouth to respond and Rogue said, "Just go. Get out of my room."  
  
Jean's shoulders slumped and she left.  
  
Rogue bit her lip to keep from running after her and begging forgiveness. She wouldn't regret what she'd said. It was only the truth. Jean had everything, she had nothing. She was getting dressed when she realized she was still wearing Logan's dog tags. Whipping the chain over her head, she flung it across the room angrily. The metal that had been her only tie to the man she loved had been the one thing that kept her sane those nights she suffered with his and Erik's nightmares. Now they mocked her, warmed by skin he'd never touch again, he'd never wanted to touch in the first place. Family. That's a laugh, she thought. Family are the ones who mess you up the most.  
  
Crossing the room to pick the tags up, she came to a decision.  
  
***  
  
"Charles." A leftover from the days when she could shape metal with her mind, bend it to her will.  
  
He turned from the window. "Rogue?"  
  
"Professor, I -- I think it's time for me to go." Running again? she asked herself.  
  
"If you wish, Rogue. I know you've been unhappy for a while," he said gently. "Is there anything I can help you with?"  
  
She walked to him and, kneeling, laid her head in his lap. She let the tears she'd been fighting for so long -- since that night in the weight room -- out in a torrent. He stroked her hair and sent soothing thoughts into her mind.  
  
"Where will you go?" he asked when she was done and resting quietly, sitting on the floor next to him. They both stared out the window, Xavier thoughtfully, Rogue unseeingly, her eyes focused somewhere far off in the distance.  
  
"Alaska," she answered without hesitation.   
  
"Scott's in Juneau," he said softly.  
  
"I know," she replied.   
  
"You could bring him home."  
  
"Do you really think he'd want to be here now?" she asked.  
  
Xavier sighed. "Logan loves you, you know."  
  
"I know," she replied. "It's not enough."  
  
***  
  
That night, while Logan and Jean were heating the sheets in Jean's bed for once, Rogue slipped into his room and laid the dog tags on the dresser. She couldn't wear them anymore.  
  
***  
  
She left the next day, in an old gray Chevy Nova (the Driver's Ed car), the keys to which had magically appeared in her room that evening, probably while she'd been sneaking into Logan's. She had a nice amount of cash in her pocket and a credit card from Xavier. "For emergency use only," she said, smiling for the first time in days. He hugged her, Hank handed her a map and Ororo kissed her hair as she left in the damp, pre-dawn hours, long before Logan would be stirring. She didn't want to take the chance of his catching her, asking her to stay. Because she knew she would.  
  
***  
  
She drove north for a few hours, hitting Lake George at around nine. She traded in the Nova for a pickup truck that wouldn't be recognizable to anyone following. She was afraid Logan would find her and convince her to come home, as if she could be at home in the place he'd betrayed her. Of course, he was still in her head a little, but the Logan in there had never looked at her as he fucked Jean, so she could live with that.   
  
She knew she was being irrational, that he'd always wanted Jean and never wanted her, but she didn't care. Running was better than staying and dying a little inside every time she saw them together, and she'd learned how to run from the master himself.  
  
***  
  
Logan didn't notice she was gone until dinnertime. He and Jean had argued over her, and he'd gone into town. When he came back, he went to his own room for the first time that day and saw the tags. He had to blink at the burning sensation in his eyes, unfamiliar with it as he was. It wasn't until he felt the moisture on his cheek that he realized he was crying. Goddammit. The Wolverine didn't cry. He wasn't some fucking pansy-assed frat boy, mewling because his girl gave back his class ring.  
  
Schooling his features, he went to her room. And saw the closet open and empty; the drawers as well. He clawed the furniture until it was less than useless and then stalked off to find Chuck.  
  
"Where did she go? When did she leave?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Logan. She asked me not to tell you."  
  
"Fuck you, old man," he growled, shoving a claw at Xavier's chin. "You tell me where Marie is, or the furniture's not the only thing gonna be sportin' scratch marks."  
  
"Logan!" Jean exclaimed. "Calm down."  
  
"Don't fucking tell me to calm down. Marie is gone and this bastard let her go."  
  
"Perhaps she will be happier away from here," Storm said, her voice soothing as always.  
  
Logan didn't want to be soothed. "Happy? Who the fuck is happy? Why wouldn't she be happy here?" But he already knew. In his own selfishness he'd caused her pain and then acted like it didn't exist.  
  
He sank down into a chair, defeated. She was gone, and she was probably better off without him.  
  
That night he found himself crying, and for the first time ever, he stood under the shower and let the tears come. It was his fault, all his fault. He realized he loved Marie, and it was too late. He'd always wanted what he couldn't have and this time, it was his own fault.  
  
He fell heavily into bed afterward, and Jean tried to hold him close, but he pulled away.   
  
"It's not your fault," she whispered. "No one is to blame."  
  
End  
  
  
No One Is to Blame -- Howard Jones  
  
You can look at the menu but you just can't eat  
You can feel the cushions but you can't have a seat  
You can dip your foot in the pool but you can't have a swim  
You can feel the punishment but you can't commit the sin  
And you want her and she wants you  
We want everyone  
And you want her and she wants you  
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame  
You can build a mansion but you just can't live in it  
You're the fastest runner but you're not allowed to win  
Some break the rules  
And live to count the cost  
The insecurity is the thing that won't get lost  
And you want her and she wants you  
We want everyone  
And you want her and she wants you  
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame  
You can see the summit but you can't reach it  
It's the last piece of the puzzle but you just can't make it fit  
Doctor says you're cured but you still feel the pain   
Aspirations in the clouds but your hopes go down the drain  
And you want her and she wants you  
We want everyone  
And you want her and she wants you  
No one, no one, no one ever is to blame  
No one ever is to blame  
No one ever is to blame  



	2. Invisible

Title: Invisible  
Author: Victoria P.  
Series: All of Heaven Away  
Summary: L/R/S/J from another point of view. Companion piece to "No One Is to Blame" and "The Ghost In You"  
Disclaimer: Sigh. I own nothing. I make nothing. Please don't sue me.   
Rating: PG  
Archive: If you want, just let me know  
Feedback: Always -- especially now, because I've never really tackled Storm before  
Notes: To the person who asked about Ororo's POV -- hope you like it. Thanks to Pete, Jen, Meg and Dot. I was inspired by the song "Invisible" by Alison Moyet.   
  
Invisible  
  
I sat and listened as they fought. I don't think they realized how loud they were. It hurt me to hear the pain in his voice as he said, "Is that it, then? After all these years, you can just say good-bye like that?"  
  
"It's not that simple, Scott." Jean's usually calm voice was raised, though still controlled.  
  
"I think it is. You've wanted him since he showed up, and now you'll get your chance."  
  
"Logan has nothing to do with my not wanting to go to Alaska with you."  
  
I would go with you. I would go anywhere you asked me to, Scott. But you never saw me, never looked beyond red hair and green eyes to see me, and I never pushed. You belonged with my best friend, two halves made whole in love. I respected that. I loved you as a couple, though my heart cried out as I watched Jean turn from you to Logan.  
  
I knew she did not love Logan. I knew Logan did not love her. But the attraction between them was strong, and it needed to be faced eventually. You and Rogue would bear the scars of the fire burning between them. And I would as well. Because I wanted to go to you, tell you how I felt, but I knew the time was not right. Would never be right. How could you look at me, want me, after having the near-perfection of Jean for so many years?  
  
Men have called me beautiful. I accept that. Logan used to approach me incessantly, which I found amusing. And I will not deny his attractions. But his is not a temperament I could handle for long. He needs someone to soothe him and teach him control; I want to be the one who drives a man mad and makes him learn to lose control. That is what I want with you, Scott. But you will never see it. I will never take the chance of ruining our friendship, or my friendship with Jean, for feelings I was once sure would pass quickly, though they never have.  
  
I take your hand as you leave, and press a kiss to your cheek and pray you do not feel my trembling. Logan's nostrils flare and I see him looking at me, but he is not perceptive. He will never guess my feelings for you. He cannot even see Rogue's feelings for him, nor his own for her. That is why I know this thing he will have with Jean is such a big mistake. I could tell him, but it is not my place to interfere. So I stand back and watch as the months pass and Rogue loses what little of Logan she had left.  
  
She leaves and I kiss her goodbye as well. I wonder if you will turn to her when she reaches you, the two of you finding solace in each other, and it makes me physically ill.   
  
I can no longer look Jean in the eye. She drove you out, away, and yet I am the one who feels guilty for dreaming of you, your finely chiseled features, your strong body, your lips pressing against mine.  
  
I think she knows; how can she not? But she never speaks of it. It is invisible. As invisible as I am as a woman.   
  
I know you will return to her inevitably, and she will take you back. I hope that Logan will eventually realize what good fortune he has in Rogue's love for him.  
  
And I will remain alone, forever the best friend, the invisible woman.  
  
End  
  
  



	3. The Ghost In You

Title: The Ghost In You  
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net]  
Series: All of Heaven Away  
Summary: Logan goes after Rogue. Sequel to No One Is to Blame. [L/R (L/J), Scott]  
Rating: R - language  
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. Ghost In You belongs to the Psychedelic Furs.  
Archive: Really? You want it? Just drop me a line and let me know.  
Feedback: It's better than chocolate, and not bad for your skin, either.  
Notes: I couldn't leave it alone. And since I kept listening to "Ghost in You" [I adore the Counting Crows' version] this happened.   
  
indicates thoughts  
  
The Ghost in You  
  
He'd thought it would get easier as time passed. That he wouldn't still feel the ache Marie's absence caused every time he thought of her. He wondered sometimes where she was, what she was doing. He wondered if he could find her and how she'd react if he did.  
  
He began to realize that in getting the one thing he always thought he'd wanted, he'd lost the one thing he thought he'd always have. He wasn't one for introspection, and he hated the relationship psychobabble Jean sometimes foisted on him, but he knew, deep down in his unbreakable bones, that he'd fucked up massively, and he had no idea how to fix it.  
  
At first, Jean thought it was sweet. Everyone had thought Rogue's crush on him was adorable and his gruff regard for her endearing. None of them realized how deep the bond ran between the ageless man and the girl who was old beyond her years.  
  
A month and then two passed since Rogue's departure, and Logan still didn't seem to be getting over it. Jean could see the shadows in his eyes whenever he walked past the girl's room, feel the eagerness radiating from him whenever a strange car pulled up, convinced it would be her this time, coming home. Rogue was still alive, Xavier assured them, and doing fine, but she was a ghost in their relationship, and she didn't fade.  
  
He started spending more time away from the mansion, taking trips to the mountains or down to the shore. After the first couple of times, when he'd snapped at her to leave him alone, Jean stopped asking to go along. She moved back into her own room, slept alone there once or twice a week.  
  
Somehow, Marie and Jean had switched places in his life, and he'd been too stupid to figure it out. It took him a little longer to say it out loud. Jean had known what they'd had wasn't love -- just sex and the need for the forbidden. She'd always known the real object of his frustrated desire was Rogue, even if neither of them did.   
  
She saw him gradually realize it. Even though she wasn't trying, she could sometimes see what he was thinking when they were in bed together. Right after Rogue left, when he closed his eyes, he'd see Marie's face, stricken at the sight of him with Jean. Then the images changed. He began imagining Rogue in bed with him, slowly driving him to ecstasy.   
  
After four months, she was alone more often than not. Jean knew it was over the night she saw an old pair of Rogue's gloves draped over the chair in his room. He knew it too, and he finally told her.   
  
He still hoped Marie would come home, hadn't planned on hunting her down, until the night she called. They asked him how he could be sure, since the person on the other end had hung up when he answered, but he was.   
  
He'd gotten to the hall phone first, and grunted, "Xavier's." There was a gasp and then a click. It had to be her.  
  
The next morning, he was gone, leaving a note to Chuck promising to bring the bike -- and Marie -- back in one piece. He had no idea where she was, but he was sure he could find her if he tried hard enough. He had to.  
  
***  
  
Rogue had settled into a routine in the four months she'd been in Juneau. She enjoyed bartending -- it was sociable work that didn't require touching. They were so happy to have her that no one commented on her eccentricities. At least, not within her hearing.  
  
She'd spent a month just taking her time across the country, at first calling the mansion every night to assure the professor and Ororo that she was safe. As she got farther away, she called less and less. She knew he was keeping tabs on her, and she didn't get into any trouble.   
  
Well, outside of that little fight in Billings, but those Friends of Humanity bastards deserved the ass-kicking she'd given them. Her training and Logan's memories had come in awfully handy that night.  
  
She hadn't followed the route she'd used the first time she ran away, driving instead across the amazing expanses of the West until she reached Seattle. After a few days there, she headed north and crossed the border into Canada.  
  
It was cold up where she was -- had been since September -- and she silently thanked the professor for the long heavy coat and the fleecy sweatshirts he'd insisted she pack.  
  
She'd found Scott easily enough. His family owned the Summers Inn on Shelter Island, just north of the city. They were letting her live there, and they'd hooked her up with a job in town at the Whaler, a local pub.  
  
And since the weather had turned, she'd made a discovery. A startling, wonderful, life-changing discovery.  
  
The cold retarded her mutation. For a few minutes at least, she could touch other people without hurting them. And somehow that made everything better.  
  
Scott was teaching her how to skate and she fell through some thin ice. In the process of rescuing her, he'd come in contact with her bare -- and icy -- skin. And nothing happened.   
  
She still wore her gloves and kept covered up -- hell, even people without brain-sucking powers did up here -- but just *knowing* that she'd have the chance to touch again, under the right circumstances, even for just a few minutes -- changed her whole outlook on life.  
  
She'd always known Alaska was going to be good for her.  
  
***  
  
Logan had almost given up in disgust. He was never going to find her. He was so sure she was on her way to Alaska, but he'd picked up no trace of her. The trail was too cold.  
  
Until he hit a bar in Billings, Montana. It was a small, dingy place, much like the one in which he and Marie had met. There was even a cage, and he made a lot of money that night.  
  
Afterwards, he listened with half an ear as the bartender and one of the waitresses reminisced about some of the fights they'd seen. They got his attention when the waitress mentioned that strange little girl with the gloves.  
  
"Gloves?" he asked, trying to sound uninterested.  
  
"Yeah," the waitress replied. "Beautiful, leather gloves, came up to her elbows. And these skinheads started picking on her. Well, she cleaned their clocks straightaway. Never seen nothing like it."  
  
The bartender nodded. "She was something else. Makes you wonder what lucky man's got that spitfire sleeping next to him."  
  
"Is that all you think about, Gary?" the waitress said.  
  
"This girl," Logan asked, casual, "she say where she was headed?"  
  
The bartender smiled. "See, Louise, that's the kind of woman for the Wolverine." Logan growled and Gary got back to the question. "She mentioned something about friends in Alaska. Didn't talk much, really. Had a shot of bourbon and asked if I sold cigars." He shook his head. "Strange."  
  
Summers was in Alaska, he knew. He hadn't listened much when Jeannie told him the story of Scott's miraculously reappearing father, but he vaguely recalled something about an inn. He could always call Xavier for the information, he supposed.  
  
It didn't come to that, though. In Edmonton he stopped at a cybercafé and talked a pretty girl into finding out the information he needed.  
  
He was on the hunt now, and nothing was going to stop him.  
  
He arrived in Juneau a few days later, and took a room at one of the lodges in the city. He went out to Shelter Island to have a look around, and he saw her. Saw them. And felt like he'd been kicked in the balls.  
  
She was with Scott and they were having a snowball fight. Nothing unusual at first. He just hid and drank in the sight of her, not worrying about getting caught. He planned on making his presence known soon enough. But when they were finished, he heard her say, "My hands are cold."  
  
And then One-Eye was pulling off her gloves and kissing her fingers.   
  
Kissing her fingers.  
  
Christ on a fucking crutch, Logan thought. Since when had she been able to do that? And why was she doing it with Scooter? He felt the claws come out and the pain sharpened his focus.  
  
"Stop being silly, Scott," she was saying, laughing.  
  
"Why is it silly, Rogue? You went a long time without anyone being able to touch you. I'm just trying to make it up to you."   
  
She smiled at him, and Logan felt his chest constrict. Had his stupidity driven her into the arms of his biggest rival? And would she be devastated when Scott went back to Jean, as he would eventually?  
  
He'd lost track of their conversation and was startled by how close she sounded when she said, "I have to work a double shift tonight. Betty's youngest is sick, and there's the big happy hour crowd."  
  
Scott laughed. "There's never been more than twenty people in the Whaler on a Monday night, Rogue."  
  
"Hey, twenty is a big crowd for us, and I'm the only one working."   
  
They went back into the house then, and he made his way back to the mainland, where he scoped out the Whaler.  
  
He was seeing her tonight, and if all went well, he'd be touching her, too.  
  
***  
  
He saw that Scott was right when he walked into the bar. It was a cozy little pub, all dark wood and moose antlers. The people who frequented it were fishermen, and he could smell their profession from a mile away. He didn't know how Marie stood it.  
  
She had her back to him as he walked in and slid onto a stool at the end of the bar closest to the door. She was busy serving some food and he watched how her hips swayed as she moved, and how her jeans pulled tight across her ass when she bent over the bar.   
  
He lit a cigar and waited.   
  
One of her customers pointed out that someone new had come in. He saw her eyes flick to his in the mirror and then widen in shock. She pulled a bottle of Wild Turkey down off the shelf, picked up a glass and sauntered over.  
  
"That it, sugar?" she asked, pouring the bourbon into the glass, as if he hadn't broken her heart and sent her running across the country.  
  
He nodded. "How much?" he said, as if he hadn't driven six thousand miles to find her.  
  
"On the house," she replied, putting another glass on the bar and filling herself out a shot. She knocked it back and wrinkled her nose at the burn going down her throat. "I don't know how you drink this shit, Logan. It tastes awful."  
  
"You don't seem surprised to see me."  
  
"Ororo called and told me you were on the way." She turned to walk away but he grabbed her hand.  
  
"That's it?" he asked. "I drive across the fucking continent to find you -- Chuck wouldn't fucking tell me anything, which is why it took me so long -- and that's it?"  
  
She sighed and tried to remove her hand from his. "How's Jean?"  
  
He closed his eyes. "Didn't 'Ro tell you?"  
  
"She said you'd left. This afternoon she said you were coming here. That's all." She tried again to take her hand back. "I have customers, Logan."  
  
He looked around. There were the three at the other end of the bar, two guys playing pool in the back, and three women sitting in a booth. "It ain't exactly Grand Central Station in here, Marie."  
  
She smiled at that, before she remembered she was mad at him. "I kinda like it."  
  
"It's cozy," he agreed, and again she smiled. It was like it used to be between them, before he'd gone and messed up. He released her hand. "How's Cyke?"  
  
"Scott's fine. He taught me how to skate." She didn't mention their discovery. She wasn't sure what Logan would say when he found out.  
  
I hope that's all he's taught you, Logan thought, scowling down into his empty glass.   
  
"Do you need another?" she asked, wondering at his change in mood. He was the one who'd brought Scott up; he had to know it wasn't exactly an easy topic, because thinking of Scott automatically led to Jean. He nodded and she poured.  
  
"Leave the bottle," he said when she went to put it back behind the bar.   
  
"Logan, I--"  
  
He grabbed her hand again. "Leave it, Marie," he growled. His fingers played over the smooth satin glove. "Why are you wearing these?"  
  
She swallowed at the sensations he was causing in her stomach. "Life-sucking skin, remember?"  
  
He brought her hand to his mouth and took the tip of one finger between his teeth, pulling the glove off.   
  
"Logan, what're you doin'?" she gasped, jerking her hand free, leaving the glove in his teeth. He reached for her bare hand and she skittered away, hitting into the shelf behind her. "Are ya crazy? You'll get hurt."  
  
He stood and leaned over, reaching for her. "Ol' One-Eye didn't," he growled.  
  
Her eyes widened then narrowed. "Were you spyin' on me?" she said angrily.  
  
"I wanted to say hello, but I didn't want to interrupt such a tender moment." His sarcasm was cutting.  
  
"What the fuck is it to you, Logan? Why don't you just go back to Jeannie and leave me alone?"   
  
Her voice was loud and the others turned to look, unhappy at seeing their sweet Rogue being harassed. They'd taken to her in the months she'd been there, and more than one of the regulars had asked her out.   
  
One of the large men playing pool walked over, and put his hands on his hips. "This guy givin' you trouble, Rogue?"  
  
Rogue sucked in a breath, knowing the potential for violence had just escalated. Logan's eyes narrowed as he took in the fisherman's belligerent demeanor. "Who the fuck are you?" he asked, turning to face the local man, menace implicit in his stance.  
  
"Logan!" Marie barked. "Granger, this is my friend Logan from New York. Logan, this is Granger, one of the very nice people I've met here in Juneau."  
  
The two men eyed each other suspiciously and everyone else in the bar held their breath.  
  
"Nice to meet ya," Granger finally said, perhaps realizing he was overmatched. Logan grunted in response and the fisherman walked away.  
  
Rogue turned on the other man. "What the fuck was that?" she hissed furiously. "Why are you comin' in here and makin' trouble for me, Logan?"  
  
"You ain't old enough to be working in a bar, Marie," he answered, sitting back down and sticking the cigar in his mouth. "You don't turn twenty-one until May."  
  
"You gonna rat me out?" she asked skeptically.  
  
He smirked. "Not if you tell me what the hell is going on."  
  
"Blackmail? That's low, even for you," she replied. She knew he didn't have a leg to stand on -- you only had to be eighteen to serve liquor, but she let him think he was the one in control.  
  
He took a drag off the stogie and then said, "You don't know how low I can go, kid. Now why were you letting Scooter drool all over you and how come you didn't absorb him?"  
  
She looked down at her pale hand, almost golden in the dim light of the pub. "It's the cold. When my temperature goes down, my mutation is blocked." She laughed nervously. "I guess I shoulda dated Bobby after all."  
  
The joke went over like a lead balloon. Logan was still trying to get his mind around the ramifications of what she was telling him. "So if, say, we were out in the snow, or if we maybe get some ice..." he muttered and her eyebrows flew up almost to her hairline.   
  
He did *not* just say "we", she told herself. Did he?  
  
"Look," she said, "I have to work until three. Hang around or come back or whatever, and we can talk then."  
  
He nodded and drank the rest of his bourbon. "I'll be back," he said, throwing down a twenty and getting up. "Don't go anywhere."  
  
***  
  
She had just finished closing when he knocked on the door. She grabbed her coat and hat and went outside to meet him, carefully locking the place up.  
  
"So," she said, not knowing what to say. "How's it goin'?"  
  
He shrugged. Logan was able to convey more with a single shrug than most people could with hours of speech. "I'm here, ain't I?"  
  
"I see that. What I wanna know is why?" Her voice quavered and she silently cursed herself. She didn't want to hear about how he was sorry he didn't love her and she didn't want his pity. She *really* didn't want to hear about how great life was in the arms of Jean Grey. She started walking toward her truck, not waiting to see if he'd follow. Hell, he'd driven six thousand miles to see her; he could walk a few more feet.  
  
He took in the beat-up truck and couldn't help but smile. "You know how to travel," he said.   
  
"I learned from the master."  
  
"I guess." It wasn't something he was particularly proud to have left with her. Hell, he wasn't proud of most of what he'd given her. "I heard you put on a show in Montana."  
  
She grinned ruefully. "I was letting my temper get the best of me, I suppose. Turning the other cheek seems foreign to me now."  
  
"Well, I'm glad, 'cause otherwise I might not have found you so quick." He stopped, unsure of what he wanted to say, and how to say it. "So you and Scooter-- are you--?" he couldn't bring himself to say the words.  
  
Her brow furrowed. "I live with them. Chris -- that's his dad -- is very cool. Like a laidback version of Scott." She shook her head. "There are some words I never thought I'd use together in a sentence. And his grandparents are very sweet." She nodded toward the Whaler. "They got me the job here, since there was no need for a second bartender at the inn."  
  
"You're one of the family, eh?" he asked hoarsely, throat tightening. He'd fucked up and he'd waited too long to fix it. He'd lost her.  
  
Her eyes grew wistful. "Sorta, yeah. It's nice." She turned toward the truck. "Scott's a great guy."  
  
"You love him."  
  
Rogue was surprised to find Logan staring at her intently. She blinked. "Like the brother I never had," she said, nodding.  
  
He exhaled loudly in relief, but said, "This afternoon didn't look brotherly to me, kid."  
  
"That's none of your damn business and you know it, Logan." She pulled open the door and then relented. She looked him in the eye again and said, "You know, when you haven't touched anybody in more than four years-- He's just, he's bein' Scott. Helpin' me so he doesn't have to think about his own... problems." There it was again, the oblique reference to his relationship with Jean.  
  
She pulled her coat tighter and he could see she was shivering. The breath from her mouth wreathed her in fine mist. He leaned in close, acting on instinct, as usual. He pressed his lips gently to hers and waited for a response. Her hand came up to rest on his chest and she pulled away as soon as she felt the connection open up. But it had been a kiss, a real kiss, and it had lasted long enough for him to know that no kiss with her would ever last long enough.  
  
He rested his forehead against hers, where the wool from her hat would protect him. She licked her lips and swallowed hard. "What, what was that?"  
  
"A kiss," he whispered, his breath brushing her lips, sending shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature down her spine.  
  
"Rogue!"  
  
She jerked away rapidly and would have fallen if Logan hadn't grabbed hold of her coat and steadied her.  
  
It was Scott, pulling up in the jeep. "We were worried--" he broke off, realizing with whom exactly she was standing.  
  
"I'm fine," she said, batting at Logan's hands nervously.  
  
"Cyke."  
  
"Logan."  
  
The weather had nothing on the ice in the voices of the two men.  
  
"Get in the car, Rogue." It was his Fearless Leader voice -- the one that commanded instant obedience. "You can come back for the truck tomorrow." She started toward him automatically.  
  
"Marie." She kept walking. "Dammit, Marie. Just let me explain--"  
  
"Come out to the island tomorrow, Logan," she said softly, knowing he could hear her. "And then you can head on home." She got into the car and he watched as Scott drove away, grim-faced and silent.  
  
***  
  
"He's no good for you, Rogue."  
  
"Don't you think I know that?"  
  
Scott bit his lip. "He kissed you." She said nothing. "How did he know? What did you tell him?"  
  
She stared out the passenger-side window. "He knew already. He was watching us this afternoon."  
  
Scott processed that. "Why is he here?"  
  
She shrugged, still not looking at him. "He didn't say."  
  
They rode the rest of the way in silence.  
  
As she was walking up to her room he said, "You still love him."   
  
She paused on the stairs and looked at him. "Don't you still love Jean?" He smiled sadly and turned away. She knew she'd made her point.  
  
She laid awake the rest of the night, finally falling into a fitful doze at dawn.  
  
***  
  
Logan was at the inn at ten o'clock. The man behind the desk looked like Scott would in about thirty years, with salt and pepper hair and sharp blue eyes. "Can I help you?" he said pleasantly.  
  
"I need to talk to -- Scott," he said, stumbling a little over the name.  
  
"He's out back chopping wood," the man said. "Do you want me to get him?"  
  
Logan shook his head. "No. I'll find him."  
  
"Just go 'round the side," the older Summers said.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Logan followed the directions and stood, silently watching the younger man chop wood.  
  
Scott finally paused and looked up, feeling someone's eyes upon him.  
  
"Logan," he said. "What do you want?"  
  
"You should go home. Jean needs you."  
  
"Son of a bitch." Logan inclined his head, not sure if Scott was directing the epithet at him or not. "You have some nerve coming out here and telling me that." Logan said nothing. "And what about Rogue?"  
  
"I need her."  
  
There was no way to be sure, but Logan was willing to bet that such a blunt statement made Scott blink behind those fancy red glasses. "Really?" He hadn't expected the kid to be able to fit that much sarcasm and disbelief into one word.  
  
"And she needs me." Scott just looked at him steadily. "We belong together."  
  
"Which is why you broke her heart and screwed around with my fiancée."  
  
"Jeannie's got nothing to do with this."  
  
Again, "Really?" in the same sarcastic tone. "Look, you come out here after she hasn't heard word one from you for months, and you expect her to fall at your feet?" He shook his head. "She's happy here. She's made friends; she's got a job. She's even taking classes over the Internet."  
  
"And where will she be when you go runnin' back to Jean?"  
  
"You just said Jean had nothing to do with this."  
  
Logan was exasperated and getting close to angry. "She's got nothin' to do with me and Marie. Jean and I were -- it's complicated. It was a mistake. A bad one. I know that now. Shit, I knew it then, but it's hard to resist when the object of your fantasies..." He noticed Scott's grim look and switched gears.  
  
"Without Marie, I'm only half a person. Hell, I'm only half a person to begin with -- no memories, no past, nothing to offer a girl like her. But I need her. And she needs me." That had been his mantra on the road as he struggled to find her, the only thing that kept him going when he thought he never would. He struggled to find the words to explain.   
  
He'd never been much of a talker, but he spent a lot of time alone on the road, and that had made him more of a thinker than most people expected him to be. "She makes the world right. Knowin' that Marie is around makes me think there's something worth fightin' for." He pulled out a cigar and spent a minute clipping and lighting it, torn between explaining why he had to see her and finally having it out with One-Eye.  
  
Scott, meanwhile, was considering Logan carefully. Everyone had thought they knew what was best for Rogue -- none of them thought Logan was it. He was too rough, too wild, too prone to using and breaking things -- even the things he cared about. Maybe especially the things he cared about.  
  
But they underestimated Rogue's strength and resilience. She'd survived eight months on the road alone, and hadn't lost the innocence that radiated from her even now, almost five years later. She'd had the nerve to hide in Wolverine's trailer, to stand up to him, even after she'd seen what he was capable of. She taken him on, and Magneto, and assorted other heartaches in the past four and a half years, some of them at Logan's hands. And she hadn't been broken yet.   
  
Was it possible that she was what this rough, lonely man needed to heal some of the wounds on his soul? Had Logan fallen in love with her? After the past few months, Scott was half in love with her himself, so he conceded it was a possibility. And Rogue had so much love to give, he'd learned. She was his best friend.  
  
"She's inside," he said, "waiting for you."   
  
Logan walked back the way he came, stopping once to turn and say, "Thanks."  
  
"If you hurt her again, I'll kill you myself, healing factor or no," Scott called before he returned to chopping wood.   
  
Logan walked back into the cozy building and she was there behind the desk, chatting with Mr. Summers. "Marie."  
  
"Logan. Want some breakfast? Laura makes a mean Western omelet." She had dark shadows under her eyes, and her collarbones were visible under her skin. He stared at her in the light of day and wondered why she looked so frail all of a sudden. Had he done this to her? He could tell she hadn't slept and he cursed himself for a fool. "Logan? You okay?" Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts.  
  
"I could eat," he grumbled, as if that's what he'd been thinking of.   
  
She led him to the dining room and they joined the few guests who had lingered over coffee that morning.   
  
"The inn only has ten rooms available," she told him as they waited for their eggs. "So it's a very small group who gets to stay here. Chris and Scott take them fishing and hiking, and Laura, Chris's girlfriend, does the cooking."  
  
"Girlfriend?"  
  
"Scott's mom died a long time ago. In the plane crash that caused Scott's -- control problem." A woman a few years older than Rogue entered the room bearing a coffee pot and all its accessories. "This is Melayna, Laura's daughter. Mel, this is my friend Logan." He grunted at the woman, who flashed a smile and headed back into the kitchen. "She's shy," Rogue whispered as she poured him a cup of coffee and then fixed her own.  
  
"Christ, Marie, have some coffee with your sugar," he teased as she spooned the white crystals into her mug with abandon.  
  
"I don't complain about your strange habits, Logan. I'd appreciate the same courtesy from you," she said with mock hauteur, which made him smile. She caught her breath at it, it was such a rare sight. One that she'd been used to seeing, before he'd gotten involved with Jean. After that, all his smiles, if there were any, were for the redhead.  
  
She dropped her eyes and stirred her coffee intently. "Why are you here, Logan?" she asked.   
  
Good girl, he thought. Right to the point. "I think you lost these." He pulled the dog tags off and held them out to her. "I came to bring you home."   
  
Her eyes flew up to meet his and she saw nothing but warmth in their hazel depths. "Maybe this is my home now."  
  
He shrugged. "Wherever." He reached out for her hand and placed the dog tags in it. "I don't know that Scooter and I could live under the same roof again, Marie. But I suppose we could give it a try."  
  
"Back the fuck up," she said, refusing to believe what he was saying, clutching the metal in her hand 'til it pinched.  
  
"Such language, Marie," he said, once again teasing. But it only lasted a moment. He was serious when he said, "You're a smart girl, Marie. Figure it out." He was reaching out to take her hand again when Melayna came in with their eggs. He leaned back in his seat and eyed her contemplatively. She was thinner than she had been five months ago, paler, but her eyes weren't haunted anymore and she seemed to be free of anger.   
  
"Maybe I need to hear it from you," she replied.  
  
He sighed. "I'm sorry. I hurt you and I'm sorry."  
  
She took his hand. "You love her. I understand. It's just-- I know it wasn't personal, Logan, that you weren't trying to hurt me. It took me a long time to figure that out. I needed to go away to see that."  
  
He shook his head, frustrated at her lack of comprehension, and squeezed her hand. "No, Marie. You don't understand at all. I never loved Jean. Never. And I know that she never loved me. It was lust and sex and --"  
  
"Wanting what you can't have," she whispered. "I understand that."  
  
He brought her gloved hand to his lips. "No." He shook his head again. "I'm not sayin' this right. I want you, Marie. I need you. If you wanna stay here in Alaska, then I'm stayin' too. If you wanna go back to New York, well, my bike will fit in the back of that truck."  
  
She swallowed hard and blinked to stop the tears that threatened. "I-- Logan, I don't know what to say. Why-- how-- " she couldn't seem to get her voice to work.  
  
"You didn't fade away. I closed my eyes and could still see your face, hear your voice. Please." He got up and knelt in front of her, running a hand down her hair. "Don't run again." Then, "I love you, Marie."  
  
His lips were gentle against hers, fearless, as the connection opened and she felt him, all his love rushing into her before he pulled back, weakened.  
  
She thought about all the pain and anger. She thought about the man outside, who'd lost everything because the woman he loved couldn't stay away from the man in front of her. "I love you, too, Logan," she whispered. "I just didn't expect--"  
  
"I know it's hard, Marie. And I understand if it takes you a while to trust me. I don't deserve it. I know that. But I'm willing to wait." His mouth quirked in a grin. "I got plenty of time."  
  
"You'll stay here? I don't want to go back yet. I don't want to rush into anything."  
  
"Whatever you want. I got a room in town. We can play this your way." He knew she was afraid. Afraid that he wasn't going to stick around, afraid that she'd get hurt again. "I promise to take care of you, kid. I never meant to hurt you and I swear I'll try never to do it again. I love you, Marie. I ain't never said that to anyone else, I'm pretty sure. I'll do whatever you need to make you trust me again." She opened her mouth to speak and he said, "Shh," sitting back in his chair and hauling her into his lap. "No more talking."   
  
Scott found them that way a while later, the gruff man with the metal bones and the fragile girl with the lethal skin, and he was glad that they had made their peace.  
  
Logan always said Marie was the smartest woman he'd ever met. She'd known when to run and when to stop running. Neither of them would ever run again.   
  
End  
  
  
  
THE GHOST IN YOU   
a man in my shoes runs a light  
and all the papers lied tonight  
but falling over you   
is the news of the day  
angels fall like rain  
and love...is all of heaven away  
inside you the time moves  
and she don't fade   
the ghost in you   
she don't fade  
inside you the time moves  
and she don't fade  
a race is on, i'm on your side  
and here in you my engines die  
i'm in a mood for you  
or running away  
stars come down in you  
and love...you can't give it away  
inside you the time moves  
and she don't fade   
the ghost in you   
she don't fade  
inside you the time moves  
and she don't fade  
don't you go   
it makes no sense  
when all your talk and supermen  
just take away the time  
and get in the way  
ain't it just like rain  
and love, love, love, love, love...is only heaven away  
inside you the time moves  
and she don't fade   
the ghost in you   
she don't fade  
inside you the time moves  
and she don't fade  
the ghost in you, she don't fade  
inside you the time moves  
and she don't fade   
the ghost in you   
she don't fade  
  



	4. Alone Again Or...

Title: Alone Again Or...  
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net]  
Series: All of Heaven Away  
Summary: Jean reflects on the events of the past few months.  
Rating: PG-15 - language  
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.  
Archive: List archive, http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool, anyone else, just let me know, 'kay?   
Feedback: Yeah, baby!  
Notes: This will only make sense if you've read the first three stories: No One Is to Blame, Invisible, and The Ghost In You. They're available at: http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool/heaven.htm.  
And yes, there is a pattern in the titles. I love the Damned's version of Alone Again Or. We're on an '80s music kick. Thanks as always to Jen, Pete, Dot, and Meg.   
  
  
Alone Again Or  
  
I eat lunch alone now. I don't go to the dining room. I can't take sitting there and having no one talk to me, or sit by me. I can't take Ororo's accusing glances and sad sighs.  
  
You can laugh and say that the weather goddess has never looked more serene, but you don't know her like I do, and you can't read the emotions she tries to keep invisible. She loves him too, and she's angry that I drove him away.  
  
When Scott discovered his family was still alive and well in Alaska, I was thrilled. It was something he'd always wished for, and I was happy that he'd gotten something good, after all the bad he's suffered without complaint.  
  
I love Scott. I wouldn't have spent seven years of my life with him if I didn't. But I was feeling stifled. I don't know if the seven-year itch is real, but I was definitely itching. So, I told him I wasn't going with him. No reason I should. Well, except that I'm his fiancée -- or I was -- and my future in-laws would no doubt be extremely interested in meeting me. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't go and pretend like everything was the same as it ever was. Because it wasn't.   
  
Logan still flirted with me, but now I flirted back more aggressively. I let the teasing glances we'd always shared become smoldering looks. Because I needed to know what it would feel like to be with him. I began fantasizing about him, to the point where I was afraid I was going to call out the wrong name when Scott and I made love.   
  
Scott knows me, better than anyone. He knew what would happen if he left and I stayed behind. But not going wasn't an option for him. His need to see his family was strong, and my need to sleep with Logan was stronger. So I told him I wasn't going with him.  
  
I don't excuse myself. I knew exactly what I was doing. Scott knew it, Logan knew it, everyone knew it. No one was supposed to talk about it, though. It was supposed to be a big secret that I was sleeping with Logan while Scott was away. I'd like to say I couldn't help it, but I could have. He didn't change the way he behaved with me -- I'm the one who went to his room, I'm the one who started it. I knew I didn't love him, but God, I wanted to fuck him.  
  
You don't think I use those words? Perfect Jean Grey with her perfect little life. That's what Rogue called me. She has no idea how much I used to be like her, hiding from people -- she's actually much more social than I was once my telepathy kicked in and I couldn't control it. But Charles helped me learn control. He was the first man I ever truly loved. Nothing came of it, of course. I was sixteen and a student.   
  
So I understand Rogue's possessiveness of Logan. He's her very own personal Jesus. And I've been in Logan's shoes as well. I'm seven years older than Scott. I was already in medical school when we met. He says he knew immediately, when he met me, that we'd be spending our lives together. He was sixteen. He was a beautiful boy, even when he was scared, thin and ragged. He told me, when I left after summer vacation, that we'd be together. I almost laughed, but I didn't. I told him I was flattered, and that he should probably date girls his own age.   
  
When I came back for Thanksgiving, I learned he'd cut a swath through the neighborhood, breaking hearts by the dozen.  
  
"I've been around, and I've decided that you're the one for me," he said the night before I left for school. He kissed me, and I let him, a foolish twenty-three-year-old who didn't believe in fate or love at first sight.  
  
We went on our first date the night he graduated from high school. We had sex the last night of summer vacation that year, before he went off to Yale and I to Stanford. We agreed to see other people when we were apart. I didn't think that his love for me would survive all the beautiful girls he'd meet in college. And I certainly didn't believe that I'd miss my little summer fling so much that I'd wind up calling him almost every night that first month apart.  
  
Finally, after medical school for me and college for him, we just moved in together. There was no big fanfare. He asked me to marry him and I said yes. That was seven years ago.   
  
Four years ago, Logan and Rogue came to us, and I suddenly started to wonder about sex with another man again. I'd been attracted to other men, but never tempted. Logan was like a siren, and Scott's absence made his song that much harder to resist.  
  
Scott and I didn't make love the night before he left. We fought. I'm sure everyone in the mansion heard us. It ended with him telling me to do what I felt was necessary, and that he'd always love me, regardless. He told me that I was free to do whatever I wanted while he was away, since he knew I would anyway. That hurt. Because as much as I wanted to argue with him, I knew it was true.   
  
A week later, I went to Logan. And it was good. So very good. So different from Scott's smooth, sculpted hairlessness and gentle, loving touches. It was wild and carefree and hard and frequent. Logan didn't care if there were classes to be taught or if the kids could hear us.  
  
Until the day in the weight room. I don't know what I was thinking -- I knew the door wasn't locked. It *doesn't* lock. The risk of getting caught made me hot. I just never thought it would actually happen. And by the one person to whom it would actually matter.  
  
We pretended it didn't happen, and had a great three months, until school was out and Rogue came home. I knew it was only a matter of time then, before Logan realized that he loved her, not me.  
  
I never had any illusions about that, despite what people may think. I knew that he loved her, and she him, even though I tried to brush it off as a childish infatuation on her part, and a sibling-like affection on his. You only had to watch them together to feel it -- but I chose to close my eyes and hold onto my fantasy for as long as I could.  
  
When she left, it killed him. He spent four months living the lie with me, and I let him. I had nothing else. I know Logan expected me to go crawling back to Scott, but for all I knew, he had found comfort with Rogue. They'd always been close, and wouldn't *that* be a kick in the pants to me and Logan -- the loves of our lives moving on without us, as a couple. I don't know if Logan thought of that. I do know he watched for her constantly, waited for her patiently. And the passion between us died quickly.  
  
He left, and so I'm alone again. I don't know what's going to happen now. Charles just told me that his sources have found a secret laboratory up in Canada, where experimentation on mutants is taking place. He's sending Hank and Ororo out to Alaska to pick up Scott and Logan -- they're going to try to rescue the people being held there, and bring them home.  
  
We will be working together as a team for the first time in almost a year. And I'm scared. Scared that Scott won't make it back. Scared that he will, but that he won't want me anymore. Scared that his love for me will have died while I was fucking Logan.  
  
Whatever happens, I know that I won't be alone anymore, but I'm not so sure that will be a good thing.  
  
End  



	5. Love Will Tear Us Apart

Title: Love Will Tear Us Apart  
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net]  
Summary: A rescue mission brings Scott back to New York to face Jean.  
Series: All of Heaven Away   
Rating: R - language  
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.  
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool (http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool), anyone who's already got my stuff; if not, just ask.  
Feedback: Always welcome and more appreciated than you know.  
Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. Another hit of the 80s (1979, actually) and one of the most beautiful and depressing songs of all time by Joy Division. Also, I suck at action scenes, so forgive the lame action scenes. And props to Joss Whedon. You'll see why.  
  
indicates thoughts  
~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation  
  
Love Will Tear Us Apart  
  
1.  
He was halfway to sleep when the call came.   
  
~Scott, we need you. Ororo and Hank should be there shortly. I've let Logan know, as well. Storm will brief you on the situation.~  
  
He sat up and rested his head in his hands. He'd known that, sooner or later, something would happen and the Professor would call. He'd had almost a year of freedom from the X-Men. Almost a year with his family.  
  
Almost a year without Jean.  
  
He sighed and pulled some clothes on. Even with the heat up, the January nights were nothing to be taken lightly.   
  
Though he knew Logan enjoyed the cold, because it meant he could touch Rogue.   
  
Logan and Rogue. In spite of himself, Scott smiled. Who would ever have guessed that they'd actually work as a couple? Yet somehow, they'd managed to become so firmly embedded in his consciousness that way, these past two months, that he could no longer imagine them apart.  
  
Much as he and Jean had been, before.  
  
But he wasn't going to think about that now.  
  
Downstairs. Put up a pot of coffee, pull out the herbal tea he knew Ororo preferred, not even wondering why he'd bought it in the first place. He was on autopilot, still groggy. It had been months since he'd had to pull on a uniform and save the world, and he wasn't sure he was up for it.  
  
Logan strolled in, looking slightly more awake than Scott, and mighty pissed in the bargain. Scott guessed he and Rogue had been occupied when Xavier's call came.  
  
"What the fuck is going on?"  
  
Rogue came trailing after him, wrapped in the big fleecy robe she'd gotten for Christmas. "Is everything all right?" she asked. She hadn't been included in the message, but Logan had filled her in.  
  
He shrugged. "Hank and Storm will be here soon. You know as much as I do. I'm taking the boat out to meet them."  
  
***  
  
They sat silently in the cockpit, and she was proud that her hands didn't shake as she brought the jet in for a landing. There was a car waiting when they deplaned and still she said nothing.   
  
Finally, Hank broke the silence. "It's okay to love him, 'Ro."  
  
She thought she strained her neck, her head whipped around so fast. "What did you say?"  
  
"I know you feel torn between good friends, but it's okay to love Scott more than Jean. What she did -- it's not easy to forgive, and I know you and Scott have always been close."  
  
"Oh. Oh, yes, of course." She closed her eyes, thankful that he was driving after the long flight. If you only knew, she thought, and sighed in relief that her secret was still safe.  
  
Scott was waiting for them at the dock, his glasses shining dully in the moonlight. He and Hank shook hands; when she held hers out for the same treatment he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.   
  
"I've missed you, Ororo," he said.  
  
"And I, you," she replied, breathing in the scent of him, memorizing the feel of his hard body pressed against hers. This was all she'd ever have of him. She knew that. And yet...  
  
The trip to the Inn was brief. Scott bustled them into a warm, cheery kitchen, where they found Rogue sitting in Logan's lap, giggling, his face buried in her neck. Storm smiled to see them so happy and Hank exclaimed, "Oh, my stars and garters! It's so good to see you two together, finally."  
  
Rogue bounded into Hank's arms for a hug and Logan watched Storm carefully, aware that she'd been pretty angry with him when he'd left New York, all those months ago.  
  
She smiled. "I am glad to see you've come to your senses, Logan."  
  
He smirked. "Well, since you broke my heart, Marie's been kind enough to kiss it better." He rose and pulled her into a rough hug. He liked Storm, always had, and her good opinion meant more to him than he'd realized.   
  
Hank outlined the situation for them. Apparently, one of Xavier's contacts in Canada had found a lab doing experiments on mutants. They were to go in, rescue the people being held captive, and turn over the offenders to the government.   
  
"We should just burn the place to the ground," Logan growled.  
  
~It may yet come to that,~ Xavier's thought came to all of them. ~I am disturbed by implications that the Canadian government is somehow involved in these experiments. Logan, you may find some information about your past, but I cannot guarantee anything.~  
  
~The lab is just north of Peace River, in Alberta.~ Both Scott and Logan started at Jean's voice in their minds. She went on to give them complex instructions on the layout of the compound.  
  
Scott strove to keep his emotions tamped down. Since the break-up, the bond between him and Jean -- the thing that kept them so close when they were together -- had been shut off. He knew it hadn't been, couldn't be, completely broken unless they both wished it to be. They'd been together too long, shared too much for that to happen, but he wasn't ready for it to be reopened completely. He didn't want his emotions seeping across the mental "wire," especially not with the others listening in.  
  
~Storm has the floor plan of the complex. There are sewage tunnels that will lead you in from the north side of the building. The lab is in the northeast corner, on the second level down. Below that are the holding cells,~ Jean continued. ~The guards change shift at eight a.m., four p.m., and midnight. Set your watches to twenty-four hour time -- from here on out that's how we'll be discussing it.~  
  
"Apparently, there are anywhere from thirty to fifty guards on-shift at one time." Storm took up the briefing.  
  
"That's all?" Logan asked incredulously. "We should be able to handle that, no problem. Cyke and I alone--"  
  
~Keep the killing to a minimum, Logan,~ Xavier warned. ~We'd like to be able to keep this clean and keep ourselves out of any official reports. If too many soldiers are killed, we will not be able to do that.~  
  
Logan growled but subsided.   
  
~Okay,~ Scott slipped easily back into Fearless Leader mode, his mind racing with strategies for keeping his people alive and making sure they got the prisoners out of the complex. ~Wolverine and I will handle the guards while Storm and Beast free the detainees. Rogue will stay with the Blackbird--~  
  
"Hold it right there," Logan interrupted aloud, furiously. "Marie is *not* comin' along. This ain't a pleasure trip and her training--"  
  
"Has been completed. I saw to it myself," Scott snapped. "She can handle the jet as well as any of us, and certainly better than you, Wolverine." He stressed the codename. This was a mission, and he was in charge here.  
  
~Gentlemen,~ Xavier said, his mental voice as commanding as his physical one, ~need I remind you that there are more important things involved here than your egos? Rogue will guard the plane. Jean and I will monitor the facility via Cerebro. Check in the moment you arrive.~  
  
Logan knew when he had been beaten. Rogue's face was lit up from the excitement of going on a real mission. He grumbled and cursed as the two of them headed up to their room to change.  
  
Hank went out to the car to sort the supplies they'd brought with them, leaving Ororo alone with Scott.  
  
"Are you all right?" she asked softly, putting a hand on his arm.   
  
He grinned tightly. "I'm fine, Storm."  
  
"I do not mean as Team Leader, Scott."  
  
The grin disappeared. He pushed her hair back from her face, his hand caressing her cheek gently. She inhaled sharply and bit her lip, trying not to show how much his touch affected her.  
  
"I'll be okay, Ororo. But I have to think of the mission right now." He dropped his hand, and the moment was over.  
  
She lowered her eyes. "Of course."  
  
***  
  
After changing into the leather uniforms Hank and Storm brought with them, Scott, Logan and Rogue joined their teammates on the Blackbird. The flight was bumpy but uneventful. Logan looked a little pale as they exited the jet into the cold, Canadian night.  
  
Rogue snickered. "There are some things about you I'll never understand, sugar," she said as he shook the kinks out and rolled his neck. "You'd rather go into a building full of people trying to kill you and everyone like you than fly in a little bad weather."   
  
Anyone else would have gotten the finger (or claw), but Logan just smirked at her. "Maybe if Cyke were a better pilot..." he muttered.  
  
~We're here,~ Cyclops informed Xavier. ~It's 00:32 hours. We've missed the shift change. We're going in anyway.~  
  
~There are forty guards on duty. No one else is on-premises,~ Xavier responded.  
  
They left Rogue with the jet and moved purposefully toward the facility. Logan sniffed out the sewage tunnel easily enough, and they made their way stealthily through it. The entrance to the building was blocked by a large fan. Logan disabled it quickly; his adamantium claws cut through the whirling fan blades with ease. The metal screeched as it was torn and the X-Men ducked shrapnel as it came apart.  
  
"We're aiming for stealth, Wolverine," Scott muttered, but Logan just grinned and climbed through the wreckage.  
  
They found the holding cells without difficulty, and Hank, with his personally re-engineered Palm Pilot, was able to figure out the combination and open all the doors. There were six mutants being held -- four seemed healthy, one was bruised and had a bandaged arm, and the sixth looked to be in terrible shape. He was blue and fuzzy, like Hank, but his ears were pointed and he had a tail. Scott was reminded of the gargoyles on the cathedral at Notrê Dame.  
  
Klaxons rang out and strobe lights flashed. They could hear the guards running as they moved through the hallways, back to the door that led to the sewers. Logan and Scott brought up the rear, ready to take on the soldiers when they appeared.  
  
The guards came into view, guns drawn. Scott's hand went to his temple; he dialed down the beam and knocked the gun out of the first man's hand with a precise blast.   
  
~There are more guards headed your way,~ Jean notified Storm. ~Take the stairway on the left. Go up two flights. That's the main level. You should be able to get out the front doors.~ Storm led the newly freed prisoners up the stairs, with Hank following behind, senses alert for more soldiers.  
  
Xavier, meanwhile, directed Scott and Logan as they fought their way through a dozen guards, on the way back to the tunnel.  
  
More men with guns awaited them at the entrance to the tunnel. The X-Men turned back the way they'd come, looking for the stairwell the others had used.  
  
They were at the front doors when Scott was shot. Logan felt the berserker rage overtake him as he saw the other man go down, stumbling as his leg gave out and clutching his bleeding shoulder.  
  
He shredded the man who'd fired the shot, and the others as well. When he came back to himself, his uniform was covered in blood -- not his own -- and torn in several places. Eight corpses littered the foyer.  
  
"I'm gonna get you outta here, Cyke," he growled, lifting Scott off the ground and slinging him over his shoulder. ~Chuck, Scott's hit. We gotta light this place up to cover our tracks.~  
  
~The others have made it to the jet,~ Xavier responded. ~There are more soldiers on the way, but you should be able to make it out if you hurry.~  
  
Logan grunted and set off for the jet, which they'd left at the back of the facility, by the entrance to the tunnel. He kept up a running stream of comments designed to keep Scott from passing out, though he knew the younger man had lost a lot of blood, and had to be in a lot of pain. He made more and more outrageous remarks, hoping for an answer. Scott remained silent, conserving his strength and holding onto consciousness with all he had left.  
  
He was fifty feet from the Blackbird when twenty soldiers in jeeps pulled up. "Goddamn fucking shit!" he shouted. "Chuck, you didn't warn me!" He froze for a moment, then Storm appeared in the doorway of the jet. Her eyes were already glazed over with white as she rose above the men and began calling lightning down from the sky.  
  
The first jeep -- and the four men sitting in it -- exploded into flames. The remaining soldiers began firing at the weather goddess as Logan ran to the plane to deposit the fallen leader of the X-Men inside.  
  
"Logan?" The single word contained all of Rogue's questions.  
  
"Hank," the Canadian barked, "he's been shot twice - once in the calf, once in the shoulder. Flesh wounds, I think, but he's bleeding like a stuck pig."  
  
The doctor went to work immediately; for once, he had nothing to say. Logan took in the scared faces of the six refugees. "Don't worry," he said. "we'll get you outta here. Rogue, get the jet ready for takeoff."   
  
She nodded grimly and he went back outside to see how Storm was faring. She was still airborne, which was good, he thought, but he didn't think she'd be able to avoid getting hit much longer. Her lightning had fried two more jeeps, and the smoke was making it difficult for the soldiers to see her.  
  
Two more bolts of electricity hit the facility and Logan realized she was trying to blow it up. The blue fuzzy mutant they'd rescued suddenly appeared in a puff of sulfur beside Logan. The older man leapt back in shock at his sudden appearance. He was so beat up Logan was surprised he could stand, let alone use his power.  
  
"The generators," the fuzzy man gasped. "Tell her to hit the generators -- they are on the east side of the building, in that shed." *BAMF* He was gone.  
  
Logan had lost his communicator in the fight, so he cast his mind out for Xavier.  
  
~You don't have to shout, Logan,~ the telepath said. ~I've--~  
  
He didn't need to finish the sentence. With deadly accuracy, Storm directed another strike, this time at the generator shed, which went up in flames. The fire spread rapidly; the soldiers were torn between putting it out and continuing to attack the X-Men. Storm sent a few more lightning bolts their way. The ones who were still alive fled.  
  
Logan and Storm rushed into the Blackbird, and Rogue lifted off. "Good thing we brought you along," Logan muttered, as he settled into the copilot's seat. She flashed him a smug grin, aware that it was the only apology she'd get for his behavior earlier.  
  
Ororo was trying to reassure their "guests" while simultaneously keeping an eye on Scott as Hank worked to get the bullets out and staunch the bleeding.  
  
Rogue set a course for Westchester and prayed that they could get there before Scott lost too much blood.  
  
***  
  
2.  
Jean and the Professor were waiting for them in the hangar when they landed at the mansion. Hank carried Scott off the jet and Storm hovered over him. Ororo's feelings for him were clear to anyone with eyes in their head, and Jean wasn't blind. She stifled a gasp and went into doctor mode as Hank took her ex-fiancé to the med lab.  
  
Xavier came forward and introduced himself to the newcomers. "I am Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my school. You will be safe here," he said reassuringly. "We will take you to the med lab now, to patch up any injuries you may have, and then someone will show you to your rooms." He wheeled ahead of the group, leading the way.   
  
Rogue escaped back to her old room. She really didn't want to face Jean, recalling how angry she'd been the last time she'd spoken to the woman. Logan trailed after her, uncomfortable at the tension he sensed in his lover's body and scent. He knew being back was hard for her, but he was determined to make it as easy as possible. He took her hand and led her into the bathroom, where he quietly stripped her of her uniform and stepped into the shower with her to help wash her clean.  
  
"Your uniform," she started.  
  
"It's trashed anyway," he responded. She knew his moods -- after a fight, he was generally feral and demanding in bed; it was only when he thought he'd screwed up that he exhibited such tenderness. It was his way of calming his fear of losing her again.  
  
When he was done washing her, she stepped out and he peeled the torn and blood-stained leather from his body, washing away the residue of Scott's injuries. If he had been a little faster, he thought, maybe--  
  
"You couldn't have prevented him from getting shot," Rogue said softly, interrupting his thoughts, as she combed the tangles out of her hair.   
  
He pushed the curtain back, uncaring of the water that soaked the floor, and said, "How do you do that?"  
  
She smiled. "I know you. Always have. Finish up. I'll be waiting."  
  
He sped through his ablutions and found her curled up in the bed, wearing one of her old body-stockings.  
  
He made love to her slowly and carefully that night, as if she were the most precious thing on earth. Then he wrapped his arms around her and she drifted off to sleep. He hoped he'd calmed her fears of any lingering feelings he might have for Jean. He finally succumbed to sleep himself, lulled by her even breathing.  
  
***  
  
In the med lab, things were far from calm.  
  
Hank worked on stitching up Scott's wounds, while Jean examined the new arrivals. She couldn't think about what was happening to Scott, nor Ororo's reaction to it. The weather goddess refused to leave the lab. Jean chose to concentrate on the strange mutants, who introduced themselves one by one.   
  
The blue fuzzy one was called Kurt Wagner. He was hurt the worst, with scabs and burn marks all over his body. As Jean worked on him, he tried to keep up a steady flow of flirtatious chatter, interrupted occasionally by grunts of pain.  
  
Finally, it was all over, and Hank was at her side.   
  
"Sit down, Jean," he said softly, his gentleness so at odds with his beastly appearance. "Scott is going to be fine. He lost quite a bit of blood, but we had enough on hand to transfuse him, and the bullets went through cleanly. He should have a couple of interesting scars, but no permanent damage to anything important." He put an arm around her and stroked her hair. "Do you want to stay with him? I'm going to see if I can't convince Ororo to go take a shower."  
  
Jean looked over at the white-haired woman, who sat at Scott's side, clutching his hand tightly and watching him with her heart in her eyes. Her own heart seized up. She was going to lose him. Not to his wounds -- not this time, anyway -- but to her best friend. And to her own choices.  
  
She blinked back the tears she'd managed to keep in check all night. She refused to cry while there was still work to be done. She had reports to type up and --  
  
"Jean." Ororo stood in front of her. "You will watch over him?"  
  
"Of course," she replied, swallowing her feelings.   
  
Ororo let herself be led away by Hank. Jean rolled her chair over to Scott's side and found herself in the position Storm had just abandoned, clutching his hand and willing him to recover.  
  
She remembered the last time she'd seen him -- the fight before he'd left for Alaska. She thought about how things had changed; it was obvious Rogue had accepted Logan's apologies. The girl had radiated a nervousness totally unrelated to the mission, and Wolverine had looked tense. He'd followed Rogue like a puppy and Jean had no doubt he was reassuring her right now that their love was more important to him than the fling he'd had with Jean.  
  
Now, if she could only convince Scott of the same thing.  
  
She began talking, her words tumbling over themselves. "I missed you. More than even I thought I would," she began. "Your physical presence, but also the traces of you -- your scent on the sheets, your voice in the hall, even your dirty socks that you throw under the bed." She chuckled through the tears that now fell, unrestrained. "No one ever believes me when I tell them what a slob you are about your clothes. They all think you're Mr. Pressed and Creased; only I know you can't use an iron to save your life." She went on in that vein for a while.   
  
Then she told him about things that she'd done with the students -- outings they'd gone on, movies and museum trips -- "And the annual seniors camping trip. Oh, it was a mess without you, Scott. Hank tried, but he gets so caught up in his studies -- he wandered off in search of some plant, and Ororo and I had trouble setting up the tents. It's so girly to admit, but I hate camping. I only ever did it for you." She brought his hand to her lips. She closed her eyes and just breathed him in, reveled in the feel of his skin against hers.   
  
"I never wanted us to end up like this, Scott. And I'm so sorry for what I did." She laughed again, this time bitterly. "But I suppose that needs to wait until you're awake. I can't get out of it this easily, I'm sure. But I've missed you in my mind most of all. It's so lonely without you there. Wake up for me, Scott. Please. I love you. Regardless of what happened before, or what happens next, remember that I love you."  
  
She felt him stir then, and his hand squeezed hers lightly. "Ororo?" he asked hoarsely.  
  
Jean sniffed and swallowed, preparing to answer him.  
  
"Scott!"   
  
Ororo rushed the side of the bed. Jean dropped the hand she'd been holding.  
  
"'Ro, you're all right?"  
  
"I'm fine, Scott. You had us a bit worried, though," she replied.  
  
He laughed weakly. Then, "Jean?" It was little more than a breath.  
  
"I'm here, Scott."  
  
"Been a while, huh?" he said, striving for a lightness of tone none of them felt.  
  
"Yeah. You rest now. Ororo's going to stay with you. I've-- I've got some things to finish up," Jean answered, like crying over you.  
  
She walked to her office; Storm followed. "Jean--"  
  
Jean shook her head and turned to face her best friend. Their eyes met and Jean looked away first. "I -- I just need some time, 'Ro. I don't know what to say."  
  
"I think that is my line," Ororo replied. "My apologies for--"  
  
"No. If anyone needs to apologize, it's me. To you, to Scott, to Rogue and Logan. God, I never thought my life would turn into _Melrose Place_." She ran a hand over her tired eyes.   
  
Ororo nodded; she understood. That was the worst part, Jean thought. Everyone understood.  
  
"I will watch over him," the weather witch murmured, and she went back into the lab, leaving Jean alone in her office, with her thoughts.  
  
***  
  
3.  
It was still dark when Rogue awoke. Neither she nor Logan was an early riser by nature, but she needed to know that Scott was all right. She looked down at Logan's sleeping face, so gentle and handsome in repose, without the usual grimace or smirk he wore to keep the world at bay. She pressed a kiss to his cheek through his sideburn. He muttered, but didn't wake.  
  
She thought she could watch him sleep forever and be content. She thought about how she'd almost missed out on the experience, and worried, even though he tried to reassure her, that her love wouldn't be enough to hold him. She worried that now that they were back, Jean would exude her siren's song again, and once more, she and Scott would be left alone.   
  
She knew now that such a change of heart would break her. She was amazed that Scott had survived at all. It's one thing, she told herself, to know that the one you love doesn't love you. It has to be much worse to have love die right before your eyes.  
  
She dressed and slipped quietly out of the room and down to the lab. Ororo was asleep in the chair at Scott's side, her head pillowed on his stomach, his hand tangled in her white locks. Rogue was surprised at how *not* surprised she was. A year ago, it would have been Jean in that chair. But the events of the last ten months had changed everything, and somehow, the idea that Ororo had spent the night watching Scott sleep seemed right.  
  
Maybe more than just the wounds inflicted last night would heal, she thought. Maybe Scott could make a new start with Storm. He deserved happiness. They both did.   
  
She heard papers rustling, then, and the hushed voices of Hank and Jean, so low she couldn't make out the words.  
  
Hank came out of Jean's office; he looked startled at her presence, but smiled. "Good morning, Rogue. Up with the sun today?"  
  
"I came to check on Scott," she replied, smiling in return. Hank always made her want to smile. And he was the only person she could touch -- Well, she amended, unless the temperature is below freezing. -- because of the fur that covered his skin. They both spoke quietly, so as not to wake Scott or Storm.  
  
"He's doing well," the doctor replied. "He should be up later this morning. I am going to have breakfast now, Rogue, but I shall see you later. You can tell me all about your Alaskan adventures."  
  
"I will, Hank."  
  
He left and she found herself drawn, almost against her will, to Jean's office. She hadn't spoken to the woman since their confrontation the day before she'd left. Maybe it was time to make peace.  
  
"Hey," she said softly, leaning on the doorjamb of the office.  
  
Jean looked up from the chart she was reading. "Rogue."  
  
"Hank said Scott's gonna be all right."  
  
Jean smiled. "Yeah."  
  
Rogue took in the circles under her eyes, the tiny lines that radiated out from the corners of her eyes. Those hadn't been there last summer. And those green eyes were bloodshot and swollen --from crying, from lack of sleep, from the sheer hell of worrying that the man she loved was going to die, regardless of the knowledge that he was healing, sleeping just a few feet away. With another woman watching over him. Rogue felt their roles reverse in that moment, felt herself become the adult she had tried to convince everyone she was.   
  
"How are you?" It was a simple question, but Jean wasn't stupid. There was a wealth of meaning in it.  
  
"I'm okay. How are you?" the redhead responded cautiously, waiting for Rogue to take the lead.  
  
"Much better, now that I know Scott is okay," Rogue said.  
  
"You two are close," Jean prompted.  
  
"He's like the brother I never had. When I saw him bleeding, I--" she stopped to wipe away the tears that slid down her cheeks. To buy herself a little time to regain her composure, she pulled the scrunchie out of her hair and redid her ponytail.  
  
"I know. When he was shot--" Jean turned away and stared unseeingly at the wall to her right. The paint is cracking, she noted absently, amazed at her capacity to notice little things when the big things were going on around her. "I didn't feel him. Always before, even if we were apart physically, I'd be there with him. But even when he was getting shot, he didn't let me in." Her voice broke and she found herself sobbing again.  
  
Rogue moved awkwardly into the room. She put her arms around the older woman and pulled her face against her stomach. Jean clung to her, and she stroked her back gently, soothingly, making soft shushing noises.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Jean choked out eventually, "for everything. For hurting you, for hurting Logan. And oh, God, Scott. What I did to Scott..."  
  
"Sshh. He loves you," Rogue murmured.  
  
"Yes," Jean answered, "but he'll never take me back. I realized that last night, when he wouldn't let me in."  
  
"You're overwrought, Jean. Give him time," Hank said, appearing suddenly in the doorway. Rogue shot him an anxious, grateful look.  
  
Jean swallowed and released her hold on Rogue. "You're right, of course, Hank. I'm overwrought. I'm sorry I subjected you to this, Rogue. I--"  
  
"No, no," Rogue said quickly, her mind racing as things clicked into place. "This was the best thing." She shook her head. "I don't mean-- I'm sorry, too. I never, I never saw you as a person, Jean, until just now. And, and I'm sorry about that." She rushed from the room, leaving Hank and Jean staring at each other in shock.  
  
"Our little girl has grown up," Hank said tenderly, pushing a lock of Jean's hair behind her ear and gently thumbing away the tracks of her tears.  
  
"Yes. She has."  
  
***  
  
Rogue stopped at Scott's bedside long enough to drop a kiss on his glasses (Hank had exchanged them for the visor once Scott was asleep), where it wouldn't hurt him. She was fighting back tears herself, and wanted nothing more than for him to wake up and comfort her, as he'd done so often back in Juneau.  
  
And then she remembered Logan. She ran back to their room, praying he hadn't woken yet. She slipped inside the door as quietly as she'd slipped out earlier, and breathed a sigh of relief. He was still in bed.  
  
"Scooter's okay?"   
  
His voice in the near-dark of the room startled her and she squeaked. "Yeah. Hank said he'll be fine."  
  
"Good," he rumbled. "How about you?"  
  
"How about me what?" she asked.  
  
"You okay?" His nostrils flared. She smelled like -- "You saw Jeannie."  
  
She swallowed convulsively. "Yeah."  
  
He patted the bed beside him. "C'mere, Marie." He didn't miss the hesitation before she joined him, and he cursed.   
  
"She's pretty torn up," Rogue murmured, settling herself tailor-style on the bed. "She still loves Scott." A pause, then, "I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?" he asked curiously.  
  
"That she never loved you. That you never loved her."  
  
He blinked and tensed, trying to figure out where she was going with this. "If she had -- if I had -- you and I wouldn't be together now."  
  
"I know." Her face was in shadow, turned away from him. He caressed the long, graceful column of her neck with his eyes and prayed she wasn't going to end things with him because of the mistakes he'd made. "And I wouldn't change us for anything.   
  
"But you hurt. And she hurt. All of us -- you, her, Scott, 'Ro, me, even Hank and the Professor -- were hurt by what happened. We're a family, and we were fighting." She sighed. "And I think someone's still going to be hurting when this is all over."  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked, relieved that his fear was, for the moment, unfounded.  
  
She turned and looked him in the eye. "Ororo is in love with Scott."  
  
He blinked again, and everything tumbled into place. Her refusals of his advances over the years, her disdain when he and Jean began sleeping together -- it all made sense now. He let out a long, low whistle. "Poor 'Ro."  
  
Rogue shook her head. "Poor Jean."  
  
He cocked an eyebrow. "You really think--" She stopped him by leaning forward and placing a gloved finger to his lips.  
  
"No more talk about them," she murmured, moving her knees so she was on all fours before him. "Make love to me, Logan. Now."  
  
He was only too happy to comply.  
  
***  
  
4.  
Over the next few days, Jean and Storm took turns watching over Scott as he healed. But every time Jean tried to speak to him about something other than their work or his health, his mouth tightened and he turned away. He spoke with Hank, and silently thanked the gentle giant for his unwavering devotion to Jean over the years. He joked with Rogue about being out of practice as an X-Man. And he spent hours with Ororo, hours that seemed to fly by effortlessly as they talked about everything that had happened in their time apart. But he couldn't bring himself to have the conversation with Jean that he knew they both needed to have.  
  
He still loved her. He admitted that -- some part of him would always love her. He'd even forgiven her. But he couldn't bring himself to trust her again. He was too afraid that he'd come up short a second time. Maybe it was cowardly, but he didn't think his heart could take it. And he hated feeling distrustful of the woman with whom he'd planned to spend his life. One more plan shot to hell, he thought grimly.  
  
He'd begun weaning himself away from her while he was in Alaska. He'd laughed and flirted with other women, telling himself that talking was nothing to feel guilty about. There's nothing wrong with being attracted to other people, he reminded himself, after he found his eyes following Ororo's progress across the lab. It's what you do about it that matters.  
  
He sighed. He couldn't believe he was thinking about 'Ro while he was trying to figure out what to do about Jean. It made him feel -- sleazy. He didn't want to hit on the woman who'd been his best friend for years. And he certainly didn't want to use her as a rebound girl.  
  
He now understood what the temptation Jean had felt must have been like. He understood that Logan was everything he was not. Ororo was different from Jean -- serene, centered, sure of herself, and self-contained. He found himself wondering about what she'd be like in bed -- who her lovers had been, and why she'd never brought them to the mansion. They were close friends, and though she'd given him relationship advice many times over the years, she'd never discussed her own heart with him. Some friend you are, he berated himself.  
  
He was up and walking now, with a cane, and he spent the better part of his day sitting in 'Ro's solarium on the roof, soaking in the weak winter sun through the glass, chatting with her about his plans for the students, now that he was back, or her plans for the garden come spring.  
  
Finally, his doctors allowed him outside. It was one of those late February days that instills the hope of spring. He sat on a bench, injured leg stretched out in front of him, and reveled in having nothing to do -- no papers to grade, no guests to cater to, no evil mutants to fight.  
  
He caught a whiff of cigar smoke, and knew Logan was somewhere in the gardens. He was sure the other man was aware of his presence, as well, but they didn't speak. They'd come to a wary truce in Alaska. Logan spent most of his time with Rogue, but even he hadn't pushed to move into the Inn with her. He and Scott grunted their hellos and goodbyes and basically stayed out of each other's way. Logan had made his case the morning he'd come for Rogue, and Scott respected the other man's candor and willingness to take it slow. He hadn't wanted to be won over by the relationship, had wanted to reserve judgment until he was sure the bastard wouldn't intentionally hurt the young woman, but Rogue's glow of happiness whenever Logan was around, or mentioned, had convinced him.  
  
As long as he kept her happy, Scott was willing to put up with him and try to forgive what had happened with Jean. It still left a sour taste in the back of his throat when he thought about it, but even that was beginning to fade.  
  
He was just about to go inside and get some coffee when he heard her voice.  
  
"Logan."  
  
"Jeannie."  
  
"We haven't spoken since you got back."  
  
Scott didn't need to look to see the man shrug. "Not much to talk about. Scooter's doin' all right. The kids we rescued have taken to this place like ducks on a pond, and we got to burn down that damn torture factory."  
  
"I want to apologize--"  
  
"No." It was said in a flat, final tone that brooked no argument.  
  
"Logan, please--"  
  
"No," he repeated. "I was a prick. I was weak and stupid and I almost lost the most important thing in my life. You have no reason to apologize to me. You need to straighten things out with Cyke."  
  
"I-- I don't know what to say." Jean was flustered. It wasn't something anyone got to see (or hear) often, but Scott knew her well enough to know that her hair was probably coming out of the barrettes she used to keep it off her face while she was working, and her arms were probably crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her biceps.  
  
"Then don't say anything."  
  
"She's grown up."  
  
"She certainly has. Marie is a spectacular woman, Jeannie. She's beautiful and smart. The only thing she ain't too smart about is me. I don't know why she's dumb enough to love me, but I ain't about to question it."  
  
Scott recalled Logan's words to him the morning he'd come to the Inn -- "She makes the world right. Knowin' that Marie is around makes me think there's something worth fightin' for."  
  
Jean laughed, snapping Scott out of his memories. "She loves you because of who you are. I don't think that's dumb. You're a good man, Logan. I'm sorry I took advantage of you, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."  
  
"Past is past, Jeannie. Like I said, I ain't the one you need to say sorry to."  
  
"I know." She hesitated, and Scott held his breath. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"  
  
"He loves you." Logan was a man of few words and not afraid to get to the point.  
  
"Enough to forgive me? Even though I don't deserve it?"  
  
"Forgiveness ain't something you earn, it's something you need. And the people who deserve it least are usually the ones who need it most." Again, Scott was surprised at the man's depth and compassion. "He'll forgive you. Marie will, too. Hell, she forgave me and I don't deserve it. The question is, will we ever forgive ourselves?"  
  
Scott heard his boots crunch on the wet gravel of the pathway as he walked away, and pondered those words.  
  
***  
  
He was still sitting in the garden when Ororo found him.  
  
"You should be inside, Scott," she scolded. "The temperature is dropping and you are not dressed for it." Though she would change the weather to suit him, she reflected.  
  
"Yes, ma'am." He smiled at her, but made no move to rise.  
  
She dropped down on the bench next to him. He took her hand absently, staring off into space. Her breath caught at the circles his thumb made on the back of her hand. He has no idea what he does to me, she thought wistfully.  
  
"Logan is good for Rogue," he said abruptly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I just never thought I'd say that," he said with a laugh.  
  
"Love sometimes defies all logic, Scott," she answered softly, thinking of her own impossible feelings for him.   
  
He turned to face her then. "Yeah. Yeah, it does." His other hand came up to cup her chin, his thumb stroking the broad sweep of her cheekbone. She closed her eyes and swallowed, licking her lips nervously.   
  
His thumb followed the path she traced with her tongue and she stopped breathing altogether. When his lips met hers, she thought she would die. Scott is kissing me! she exulted silently.   
  
His tongue played gently along her lips and she gasped, opening her mouth to him. Her hands crept unnoticed into his hair as his tongue explored her mouth before rubbing against hers, letting her get used to the taste and feel of him. She heard moaning and realized it was her own voice.  
  
The sound brought him back to reality and he broke away from her. His face, so hard to read usually, was an open book. He looked stunned, and not in a good way.  
  
"I'm so sorry," he said raggedly. Then he got up and left, hurrying along as fast as his injured leg would carry him, forgetting his cane and leaving Ororo staring after him, wondering what had gone wrong.  
  
***  
  
5.  
He made it back to his room -- the room he'd moved into on his return, since he was obviously never going to be sharing with Jean again -- without running into anybody. He was glad, because he was afraid they'd be able to tell what he'd done. That it would be written all over his face: "Hi, I'm an idiot. I just made a pass at my best friend because my fiancée cheated on me and I'm too scared to tell her it's over, but I'm horny as hell and Ororo is all I can think of."  
  
He clenched his eyes shut so he could remove his glasses and rest his head in his hands comfortably. His leg ached from his sprint up the stairs and his shoulder -- which had felt fine when he'd wrapped an arm around 'Ro, trying to get as close to her as he could without actually being inside her -- had started to throb dully.  
  
What kind of asshole was he, that he could put the moves on Storm so soon after realizing he'd never go back to Jean, even if he did forgive her?  
  
Did he forgive her?  
  
He examined that thought, turned it over in his head until he felt he had the right answer. He did. He really and truly did. She had made a mistake -- a huge one -- and had broken his trust, but he would forgive her, because to do otherwise would be to just torture them all a little while longer, and he didn't want that. He would forgive her because it was right, yes, and he was Scott Summers, who always did the right thing. But mainly he would do it because he was tired of being hurt and angry. When he thought about it, forgiveness was probably the only thing that would ease the ache in his chest.  
  
"I forgive her." He said it out loud, trying the words on, and he did indeed feel as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He would stop avoiding her; he had to tell her, because, from the sound of her voice in the garden, she was at a breaking point.  
  
Then he thought again about his behavior with Ororo, and his shoulders slumped. He still had that mess to clean up; but he was too tired to think about it now.  
  
He put his sleeping glasses on, curled up on the bed fully clothed, and went to sleep.  
  
***  
  
Ororo remained on the bench where Scott left her, wondering if she was going to lose his friendship. It had been so good, seemed so *right* to finally be in his arms, but she was afraid he was only seeing her as a substitute for Jean. At that moment, she wished fervently for the power to read minds, if only so she could find out what he was thinking. Usually she could read him -- she had years of experience at it -- but she was baffled. Normally, with a romantic problem, she would go to Jean, but how could she in this situation? "Hello, Jean. I am in love with Scott and I just kissed him. How can I make him love me back? You don't want him anymore, do you?" She laughed grimly at herself as she made her way inside for dinner.   
  
That night, the skies above the mansion were filled with heavy, ominous clouds that seemed to begin at ground level and stretch out to the horizon, bringing cold, stinging rain with them.  
  
***  
  
The dark clouds remained, hovering over the mansion for the next two days. Ororo taught her classes and disappeared back into her rooftop sanctuary. Both Hank and Xavier had tried to speak with her, but she put them off, saying she was just a little tired. Neither believed her, but they weren't ready to push just yet.  
  
Scott began spending his afternoons in the hangar, working on the Blackbird, wondering how he could apologize to Ororo. If he had feelings for her -- and he was pretty sure he did -- he wanted to make sure he wasn't just using her as a rebound from Jean. He was going to wait and take it slow, and see what her feelings were for him. He comforted himself with the fact that she had returned his kiss.   
  
But first, he had to speak with Jean.  
  
He finally went to see her in her office. He hadn't been in there since before he'd left. In seven days, it would be a year since he'd gone to Alaska. A year since his life had fallen apart. Strangely, he felt that he was about to rebuild it, and tying up the loose ends of that year was the last thing he needed to do before he could start.  
  
He watched her as she typed furiously at her computer. She had a pencil in her mouth and one in her hair, which was, as usual, coming out of the clips that held it off her face. She was beautiful. He sighed and she turned around.  
  
"Scott! I didn't hear you come in."   
  
"Hi, Jean."  
  
She pushed a stack of folders off the visitor's chair and said, "Sit. Don't want you straining the leg."  
  
"Yes, doctor," he replied, smiling.  
  
"I'm glad you stopped by--" she began.  
  
At the same time, he said, "I think we need to talk."  
  
They laughed awkwardly, nervously, and she said, "You go first." She knew their future depended on it.  
  
"I love you, Jean. I always have. But this--" he waved a hand between them, "is never going to be like it was."  
  
"I know," she replied. "And I'm so sorry. So sorry for cheating. I was wrong. I know that. I knew it then. I was weak. But if you forgive me, we can start over --"  
  
"I forgive you," he said immediately, cutting her off. "There's no question of that."  
  
"But--" she prompted. "There's a but, isn't there."  
  
"Yeah," he sighed, rising and running a hand through his hair. There wasn't room enough in the small office for him to pace, but he did it anyway. Three steps forward, two steps back. Much like their relationship in the past few years. "But I don't trust you anymore. And I can't live like that."  
  
She put a hand to her mouth to stifle her cry of dismay, and he could see the tears form in her eyes. "Scott, please, just give me a chance--"  
  
He shook his head. He sat back down and took her hand in his. "It's obvious to me now that there were other problems in our relationship, Jean. Sure, you were tempted, but if I had been enough, if I had been more like Logan, you wouldn't have strayed. I understand that. I do--"  
  
Her hand left her lips and gripped his tightly, holding it between both of hers. "No, Scott, no!" she exclaimed. "It was never you. Let me -- may I show you?" she asked. He nodded and she felt his shields slip down, felt his mind mingle with hers for the first time in a year. She saw his pain at her betrayal, his anger, and his belief that he had been at fault -- that his inadequacy in some capacity had been what drove them apart. That made her feel worse than everything else. She had taken this beautiful man and broken his confidence in himself, in his ability to love her. Her heart ached at the pain she had caused.  
  
Scott, on the other hand, saw her sorrow, her remorse at what she'd done -- her feelings of guilt and shame at causing pain to so many other people -- himself, Rogue, Logan, even Ororo. He latched on to that last one. She'd known Ororo had feelings for him, yet he'd never seen it. He knew Jean was being honest with him now -- she'd never be able to lie to him with their minds in such close contact -- but he couldn't bring himself to fully trust her. He would always be afraid that it would happen again -- if not with Logan, then with someone else.  
  
When she realized that, she let go and sobbed, unable to believe their love for each other wasn't enough to keep them together. She sensed his growing feelings for Ororo, his confusion about the situation, and his wonder that the weather goddess might return them.  
  
He held her pressed to his chest as she cried, shedding tears of his own.  
  
"I love you," she murmured brokenly, "but you're right. I never wanted this to happen but I have to live with the consequences of what I did."  
  
"I love you, too," he replied, "but I'm not in love with you any longer. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed, but I'm glad this happened before we got married. You can keep the ring. I don't, I don't want it back."  
  
"I don't mean to sound trite," she whispered through her tears, "but will we still be friends?"  
  
"Always."  
  
"About Ororo--" she said, trying to get her crying under control. "She loves you very much."  
  
He stroked her cheek gently. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking as he also tried to staunch his tears.  
  
He wiped his cheeks on his sleeve and walked out. Hank stood at the far end of the lab, hunched over a microscope.  
  
"She needs you, Henry," he said.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Hank replied.  
  
"Don't be. And, well, you never know what might happen, a few months down the road."  
  
Hank smiled sadly. "I'm not even thinking of that, but thank you, Scott."  
  
"I know you love her," Scott said.  
  
"We all do."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
With that, Scott made his way back to his room, crying himself into exhaustion at the end of his relationship with Jean.  
  
***  
  
6.  
He spent the next few days alone in his room. The one exception, the one person he could never say no to, was Rogue. She knocked at his door late the third evening after he'd spoken with Jean.  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
His mouth quirked in a half-grin as he opened the door. "Logan know you're here?"  
  
"He's wrapped up in a poker game with Hank, Jubes and Remy. I know better than to play with those guys. Jubilee *cheats*!" He laughed and she held up the DVDs. "'Ball of Fire' or 'It Happened One Night'?"  
  
"'The walls of Jericho are tumbling down,'" he quoted. "Definitely 'It Happened One Night.'"  
  
During their time together in Alaska, they'd spent many a night watching old movies and commiserating about their broken hearts.  
  
She put the DVD in the player and bounced onto the bed. He crawled under the covers and fixed the pillows so they were both propped up comfortably.  
  
She didn't push him to talk, but halfway through the movie he pressed stop and said, "I wish I could turn back time. I wish I asked dad to come here instead of going to Alaska to see him."  
  
Rogue put an arm around his shoulders and drew his head down onto her chest. "I don't think it would have mattered at that point, Scott. They made their choice, and we have to live with it." She sighed. "I know, I know, that's easy for me to say -- I got what I wanted, while you got the short end of the stick. But I'm still--" she trailed off uncertainly.  
  
"He loves you," Scott said when she didn't speak for a few moments. He hesitated, wondering if he should share what he'd learned that day in the garden. "I overheard him telling Jean that you're the most important thing in his life. I never heard him sound so, so humble. You don't need to worry."  
  
She snuffled, and he could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, objectively, that he's sorry -- he even, he even showed me -- he touched me, you know? But now Jean's free and she's sad and --"  
  
He brushed gently at the tears that began to fall, using the cuff of his shirt. "Jean wouldn't do that. And more importantly, Logan wouldn't do that. They've learned. They were hurt just as much as we were, Rogue. It just took a while longer for their wounds to surface."  
  
"You're right. I know you're right."  
  
"I am," he stated confidently. "I'm the Fearless Leader of the X-Men, after all. I am *never* wrong."  
  
That got her giggling, which made him laugh, because it was such a wonderful sound, after all the crying they'd done together over the past year.   
  
"Hey," he said, when their laughter subsided a little, "you know I love you, right? You're one of my best friends."  
  
"Oh, Scott," she said, and starting crying again, but she assured him, "these are happy tears." After getting up and washing her face, she rejoined him on the bed, allowing him to curl his body around her, though he was under the comforter and she was on top.   
  
He was going to restart the movie when she said, "So how about Ororo?" He felt his jaw drop. "Oh, my," she continued, her accent thickening as she began laughing at him, "I don't think I've ever seen you look so stunned."  
  
"How do you know -- has she said anything? I mean, what about Ororo?"  
  
She snickered. "Nice try, Summers. I know she's in love with you. Has been for years, I bet. I don't know what happened, but why do you think we've been having this nasty weather? I mean, we had a couple of beautiful days after she found out you'd survive, and then, boom! The black clouds rolled in and took up residence."  
  
"I uh, um, I uh kissed her," he mumbled.  
  
"That's great!" she exclaimed. He shook his head. "It's not great? Why is it not great? What did you do, Scott?"  
  
She couldn't see his eyes, but she had a feeling they were a little wild. "I, I don't want to take advantage of her. I don't want her to be the transitional woman. So I, I apologized and, um," his voice dropped to a whisper, "I ran away. I've been avoiding her ever since."  
  
She smacked him on the shoulder. "Jesus, Scott! You never apologize to a woman for kissing her, if she enjoyed it! That makes it seem like you didn't want to do it." She shook her head. "I'm amazed you ever got anyone to go out with you at all."  
  
"Me, too."  
  
"Oh, no you don't. No more pity parties. We're gonna work this thing out, and you're going to fix it with 'Ro."  
  
"But, but," he sputtered.  
  
"But me no buts, Summers," she said loftily. "You'll do as I tell you or I'll get Logan after you."  
  
"Yes, Rogue," he muttered gracelessly.  
  
"Ungrateful wretch."  
  
"Bossy cow."  
  
"Put the movie back on."  
  
"Yes, ma'am."  
  
***  
  
It was one am by the time the card game broke up. Logan wandered back up to the room he shared with Rogue, already planning on playing Prince Charming (or Prince I-Just-Won-Fifty-Bucks-at-Poker, in any case) to her Sleeping Beauty.  
  
Except she wasn't there -- hadn't been in all night, the bed wasn't even warm. He cast his mind back to when she'd left the rec room, murmuring something about movies and Scooter.  
  
He moved down the hall, tracking her scent to Scott's room. Pushing open the door, he saw them curled up on the bed, asleep. She was on top of the covers, and Scott was beneath, his cheek pillowed on her hair.  
  
*Snikt*  
  
He took a deep breath and retracted the claws. He knew they'd become close in their time together, away from the mansion, and he wasn't about to jump to conclusions. He knew Marie loved him, and neither of them was the type of person who would cheat. Unlike himself. And the room smelled only of Scooter's light cologne and Marie's vanilla perfume -- no smell of sex permeated the air.  
  
As Logan bent and picked Marie up gently, cradling her against his chest, he sensed rather than saw Scott awaken  
  
"You're a lucky man," Scott whispered.  
  
"I know."  
  
Logan took her back to their room, gently undressed her and put her to bed. He could smell the salt of her tears, see the slight puffiness around her eyes, and he prayed to a God he didn't believe in that he hadn't screwed up again.  
  
He slid into bed next to her fully clothed, enveloping her body in his. If he had messed up, he could wait to find out until morning. He didn't want to lose what could be his last night sleeping in her arms.  
  
***  
  
Logan woke to see her staring at him, brown eyes sleepy and warm.  
  
"Mornin', sugar."  
  
"Marie," he whispered, running a hand through one of the white streaks framing her face.  
  
"You win last night?"  
  
"Yeah, though that damned Cajun is hard to beat." He wasn't interested in bragging about his winnings now.  
  
"Scott and I fell asleep, huh?"  
  
"Yeah. But it's okay. I brought you home safe."  
  
"I see that." She paused and he held his breath, waiting for the bomb to drop. "I told Scott that he's gotta make things right with Ororo or I'd sic you on him."  
  
"So he likes her back?" Logan asked, feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. It would be a long time before he stopped worrying about her leaving him, he knew.  
  
"Yeah. I think he kinda does." She pursed her lips. "And you know what else? I think Hank's got it bad for Jean." She sighed contentedly. "Everything may just work out after all."  
  
"Is this a chick thing, this matchmaking?"  
  
"Oh, like you guys weren't gossiping about it last night during the card game," she teased.  
  
"Men don't gossip. And before you say anything, none of us listens to Jubilee anyway. Girl talks more than you do."  
  
"Mmm. You seem to like it when I talk in bed, sugar." She grinned, then, a slow sexy smile that usually preceded sex.   
  
"That's different," he said, already hard for her.  
  
"You know, we skipped our nightly ritual," she drawled, draping one long leg over both of his and straddling him, feeling his arousal.  
  
"You seemed tired," he responded. "I wanted you to get some sleep. I don't wanna wear you out."  
  
She rocked gently against him. "Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that, Logan. I can keep up with you. After all, I am young enough to--"  
  
He sat up suddenly and cut her off with a kiss, using one of her ever-present scarves as protection. He didn't like to talk or think about their age difference, though she joked about it occasionally.  
  
Soon, all thoughts of Scott and the other inhabitants of the mansion were forgotten as they made love repeatedly throughout the morning.  
  
***  
  
When Scott saw Logan later that morning, the Canadian growled, "You do what Marie tells you, bub. Or it's not gonna be pleasant for either of us, ya hear?"  
  
Scott rolled his eyes, though Logan couldn't see. "She got to you, huh? I was hoping she'd forget."  
  
"Just fix whatever you screwed up, all right? I don't wanna have to come get my girl outta your bed anymore."  
  
"Fine," Scott responded. As he walked away he muttered, "You are so whipped."  
  
"I heard that!"  
  
***  
  
Scott made his way up to the attic room that made up Ororo's kingdom and called out, "'Ro?"  
  
She looked down from the solarium and said, "Come up, Scott. I am just preparing to put these bulbs in the ground." She indicated several pots that she'd moved inside during the winter.   
  
He climbed up the ladder and asked, "Do you need help?"  
  
"The children will do it. They enjoy helping me with the gardening. I think because it gives them an excuse to get dirty." She walked toward the far corner of the room bright room.  
  
He smiled awkwardly. He wasn't there to make small talk, after all. "Ororo, I need to tell you -- I'm not sorry I kissed you," he blurted.  
  
She whirled to face him. "Scott?" she asked, her voice deepened with emotion.  
  
He closed the distance between them quickly, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "I, I don't know how to do this, 'Ro. But I think I have feelings for you."  
  
"And Jean?"  
  
"You know I loved her -- love her still. But not the way I used to. Not the way I think I feel about you." He raised his other hand to cup her cheek. "I don't want this to be some sort of sympathy thing."  
  
"Believe me, Scott, I do not wish to be used as her substitute." She turned her face to brush her lips against the palm of his hand. "I have loved you for so long, Scott. I am willing to wait a while longer."   
  
Then she raised her hand and took his, leading him to a corner of the atrium. She pointed at a green stalk that was just beginning to bud. "Dendobrium superbum," she said. "A type of orchid, very easy to grow. You must withhold food and water all winter, until the buds are fully formed. It is hard, to watch the blossoms wither and die. But come spring, with the appropriate care, it will bloom with beautiful purple flowers." She faced him again. "All things have their proper time."  
  
He lowered his face to kiss her, then, gently, chastely, but with a promise of things to come.  
  
End  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"When routine bites hard, and ambitions are low  
And resentment rides high, but emotions won't grow  
And we're changing our ways, taking different roads  
Then love, love will tear us apart again --  
Why is the bedroom so cold? You've turned away on your side  
Is my timing that flawed - have our feelings run dry?  
Yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives  
Love, love will tear us apart again --  
You cry out in your sleep - all my failings expose  
There's a taste in my mouth, as desperation takes hold  
Just that something so good just can't function no more  
When love, love will tear us apart again -- "  
  
Love Will Tear Us Apart -- Joy Division  
  
  
Timeline:  
  
Scott leaves for Alaska in early March.  
  
A week after he leaves, Jean goes to Logan.  
  
Three weeks later, it's Spring Break and Rogue walks in on them. She goes back to school two days later.  
  
She comes home in May, at the end of school.  
  
Logan confronts her; she confronts Jean the next day, and then leaves. This is July.  
  
She takes a month to get to Alaska - so she arrives in mid-to-late August.  
  
Logan and Jean spend another four months together - he leaves to find her in October, arrives in Juneau in late November.  
  
LWTUA begins in late January.  



	6. In Between Days

Title: In Between Days  
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@att.net]  
Summary: Hank's turn to think about everything as winter turns to spring.  
Series: All of Heaven Away  
Rating: G  
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.  
Archive: List archives, with the others in the series  
Feedback: makes my day  
Notes: Thanks to Dot, Meg, Jen, and Pete. In Between Days is my favorite Cure song.   
  
In Between Days  
  
I watch her. I always have. I'm in love with her, after all. All of us have been, at one point or another.  
  
She chose Scott, the golden boy -- with his good looks and confidence, who wouldn't have chosen him?  
  
But I continued to love her from afar. A goddess on a pedestal, who deigned to take pity on a beast like me, and called me friend.  
  
Even when I was with Trish -- and the less said about that, the better -- I continued to watch Jean. We work so closely together, how could I not?  
  
When Trish left me, I couldn't bear to stay in New York. There were too many memories, and too many reminders of what I would never have. Never before had the happiness of others so grated upon my nerves, but seeing Jean and Scott together, while I was alone, nursing a broken heart, was too much for me. They tried to include me, cheer me up, but their talk of engagements and weddings only made me sadder.  
  
I took a position at Berkeley. Got as far away from them as I could, and spent a very happy two years doing research. I hid in the basement laboratory, like some freakish Dr. Frankenstein. Going out only after dark, wearing a trench coat and fedora -- I lived out many of my childhood fantasies, pretending I was Humphrey Bogart or Cary Grant, spying on the enemy for the greater good.  
  
When Charles called me to tell me of a new mutant at the school, one who couldn't touch, I was intrigued. I allowed myself to believe that it was curiosity, as well as the desire to help the poor creature who was thus afflicted, that brought me back. But I've never been good at prevarication. I needed to see Jean again, and I knew that we'd be working in close proximity to help the girl -- Rogue.  
  
I was drawn to her from the first, and she to me. I was the only one she could touch, and I was grateful for once for the mistake that had led to my current blue and furry condition.  
  
When Logan returned, I saw how she looked at him, and knew that she was in love with him. It was written in every line of her being.  
  
He, as most of us, had eyes only for Jean. We were in the same boat, he and I, and we became friends. But I knew that I'd never have the chance he would to share her affections. Logan has joked that he should more rightly have to codename Beast, but it is no more than that -- a joke. He has a feral, animal quality, it's true, but it draws women to him, while my beastliness drives them away.  
  
No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I do not indulge in such weakness anymore. I learned a long time ago that I am not a man who makes women swoon. They are much more likely to turn away in horror from me, or, what may even be worse, laugh at my advances.  
  
So I continued to watch as Jean went to him, after Scott left. It didn't bother me as much as you might think. I knew she didn't love him, and all I craved from her was her love. Her friendship had sufficed, and her affair with Logan wouldn't take that little bit away from me.  
  
When Rogue departed, I gave her a map and a credit card so she could always find her way. And I tried to be a good friend to both Logan and Jean as they realized the enormity of their error.  
  
When Scott came back, we all made the erroneous assumption that he would reconcile with Jean. I had already steeled my heart against the pain of seeing them together as they rebuilt their love. I had no idea -- though I pride myself on being a keen observer, I obviously missed the signs on this one -- that Ororo was in love with Scott. Nor did I ever expect him to return her feelings.  
  
It seems that everything has worked itself out now. Rogue has Logan, who despite his gruff exterior, is gentleness personified with her -- and lives in desperate fear that she will somehow stop loving him. Ororo has Scott, and together they are slowly growing into their love, which blooms as the flowers in her garden.  
  
Jean is still alone, working on ridding herself of the guilt I know she carries like an albatross around her neck. I try to be helpful, always ready with a joke and a smile as we work together every day, but it makes me want to begin wrecking things when I see the dark circles under her eyes, and I know that she spent another night alone, crying into her pillow.  
  
Would that my fairy tale would come true, that the beauty I adore could find love with this Beast. But I know that reality seldom follows the path of children's stories, and I hide my heart, because of all the things I'd love for her to give me, pity isn't one of them.  
  
End  
  
In Between Days - The Cure  
  
Yesterday I got so old  
I felt like I could die  
Yesterday I got so old  
It made me want to cry  
Go on go on  
Just walk away  
Go on go on  
Your choice is made  
Go on go on  
And disappear  
Go on go on  
Away from here  
  
And I know I was wrong  
When I said it was true  
That it couldn't be me and be her  
Inbetween without you  
Without you  
  
Yesterday I got so scared  
I shivered like a child  
Yesterday away from you  
It froze me deep inside  
Come back come back  
Don't walk away  
Come back come back  
Come back today  
Come back come back  
Why can't you see?  
Come back come back  
Come back to me  
  
And I know I was wrong  
When I said it was true  
That it couldn't be me and be her  
Inbetween without you  
Without you  



End file.
